String Theory
by theladyingrey42
Summary: "Eleven dimensions. Infinite parallel realities. And in all of them, I love her." Muppets, math, and physicists falling in love. Fluff and eventual lemons. ExB, AH.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Soooo… Remember how I said I wasn't going to write any more multichapter fics? Yeah, me too.

Er. Um.

Anyway.

A confluence of too much work, not enough time, and three separate viewings of Breaking Dawn: Part 1 have all sent me escaping into TwiFic again. Expect short chapters and updates every day or two. And it's all just for fun. No beta, no pre-readers. Just Edward, Bella, and the multiverse. (Of which, Stephenie Meyer only owns two.)

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><p>1<p>

There are a few things I know about Bella Swan.

I know she likes her coffee without sugar but with a healthy slosh of half and half. If the office fridge is out of her preferred brand of high-fat dairy, I know she scrunches up her nose and reaches for the Coffeemate, but that she does so with disdain.

I know that she looks great in heels, even though she rarely wears them, and that's okay. The benefit to her mile-long legs is offset by the tension in her posture, and I hate to see her looking that uncomfortable. And she doesn't like people staring anyway.

People stare when she wears heels. But I don't think she knows why.

I know her screen saver is of the Muppets, and that her favorite Muppet varies from day to day. Right now, it seems to be Kermit, because she's had that song about rainbows playing softly in the background for a week. Sometimes it's Gonzo (I'm Going to Go Back There Someday). And every now and then it's Rowlf (I Hope That Something Better Comes Along).

Apparently, she likes her puppets bittersweet.

I know she lives in an old neighborhood, far away from student housing – that she doesn't socialize with anyone from our program much at all. That she's insanely beautiful and that she could have anyone she wants, but that she never, ever dates. That her voice, as rare as it is to hear, is gentle and low.

That she's smart. Brilliant. Smarter than me, and I'm not trying to brag when I tell you that's saying something.

I know she likes theoretical versus experimental physics, that she earned the only A in Dr. Banner's nanoscale class last semester, and that string theory is her area of interest.

I know she looks particularly insanely beautiful in blue.

And as I hitch my backpack higher on my shoulders and shove my glasses up my nose, I decide there's one other thing I know.

I know that today's the day I'm going to go up to her.

Today's the day I'm going to say hello.

.

.

.

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><p><strong>AN:** Reviews are a nice way to say hello, too. :)


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:**You guys blew me away last chapter. Just blew me away. I can't tell you how much your kind words mean to me.

At a reader's suggestion, I'll be including some vocabulary words at the beginnings of chapters from now on. Definitions are the product of random internet searches and my own knowledge. You can skip over them if you don't care about that sort of thing. They won't affect the plot.

As always, Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I, however, am the proud owner of a B.S. in Physics. (Seriously. For all the good it's doing me...)

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><p><strong>String<strong>**Theory:**One of several competing theories currently being explored by physicists to try to unify the fields of quantum mechanics (which governs the very, very small) and general relativity (which governs planets and galaxies). Proposes that the tiniest particles in the universe are made up of even tinier vibrating strings. Implies the existence of multiple hidden dimensions in space and time, and the possibility of infinite parallel realities.

It's also just pretty damn cool, if you ask me.

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><p>2<p>

"Hey, Edward. How's it going?"

I look over at Jasper as I set my backpack down beside my desk. He's sitting with his chair tipped nearly all the way back, and there's mischief to his eyes.

"Fiiiine," I reply, hesitant. "You?"

"Awesome." He flicks his gaze around the office, then slams his chair down so it's back on all four legs. Leaning in, he cups his hand around his mouth to whisper, conspiratorially, "I got laid last night."

I hope all the fire extinguishers in the lab are up to code. Because my face just burst into flame.

"Good for you," I mumble, refusing to look at him as I pull out my own chair and wiggle my mouse.

"Aw, don't be like that."

"Like what?"

_Like a twenty-three year-old virgin, that's what._

"Acting all embarrassed and everything. I mean, I haven't even told you what this chick did with her tongue yet."

It's all I can do not to plug my fingers in my ears and start singing. "Please. Don't."

"Ugh. Fine. Maybe Emmett will be more interested when he gets in."

I give up and slam my forehead against the desk. I leave it there and moan quietly to myself.

It's not that I don't want to talk about sex. I just have nothing to add.

Nothing.

Like, _nothing_nothing.

And I'm tired of it. I'm tired of hearing about how it feels and about how great of a time everybody else is having. Everybody except me.

Aaaaand…great. Even just a half minute conversation about sex and I'm hard.

By the time I calm myself down and disconnect my forehead from the formica, Jasper's more or less gone back to whatever he was working on before. Well, at least that's something. He's no longer paying attention to me.

For two years now, we've been sharing this office. As graduate students working for the same professor, Jasper and I should have plenty in common, but it's never worked out that way. Honestly, I don't think I'll ever understand him. He comes in at weird hours. Skips classes. Spends his free time doing wildly inappropriate things. And I swear I never see him actually do any work. But come time for group meeting, he's always got something new and brilliant to share. Meanwhile, here I am, banging my head (sometimes literally) against the same damn set of simulations I was when I first got here, and nothing.

Nothing.

Story of my life, apparently.

Only, with qualifier exams coming up in a month, even if I never have sex, if I don't fix my research soon, I am definitely, definitely going to be screwed.

Emmett stumbles in an hour or so later, dark shades covering his eyes. For a second, I let myself hope that his obvious hangover will keep Jasper from trying to make conversation, but I know Jasper would never be so easily deterred. Sure enough, as Emmett settles into his desk back behind the bookshelf, Jasper turns and begins to regale him with his own adventures of the previous night. Wanting nothing more than to escape, I steal a peek at the clock in the corner of my screen.

_Shit._Ten fifteen.

I'm out of my chair in a heartbeat. "I'm going for…"

Jasper interrupts me. "Coffee, we know."

Whatever. Assholes.

As an afterthought, I call over my shoulder, "Either of you want anything?"

"For you to finally just fucking _talk_ to her already. If you drink any more coffee I think you're going to vibrate right out of your chair."

Emmett lets loose a deep guffaw. And there I go, needing the fire extinguisher again. But I still can't help but smile.

Taking courage from their expressions of surprise, I hold my head high and pause dramatically at the door. "You know what? Today…today I just might."

#

My shoulders slump the minute I make it to the break room. It's empty. I'm late. And considering it's Friday, all my resolve is wasted; I'll never find the nerve again come Monday. I'll just be the same old me again, pathetically stalking a girl who doesn't even know I exist, making lists of facts that carry nothing of her substance. Incapable of just fucking _talking_ to her. Like usual.

As I stand there, feeling like an idiot, another weekend spent working and hiding behind my computer screen spreads out before me. It's how I've always preferred things, honestly. But sometimes – times like now – I can't help but admit that it's lonely.

And it's not as if it looks good from the outside.

Maybe it's just as well I've never talked to her. She'd probably pity me.

I sigh and lean against the doorjamb for a minute. I should probably slink back to my office, but after all my bravado, the idea of facing Jasper and Emmett again chafes too much.

Sucking in a deep breath, I ready myself to do so anyway when something slams against my back. I stumble forward, reaching out blindly to try to catch my balance, and I curse out loud.

But my curse isn't the only one.

"Oh, shit. Sorry!"

I know that voice.

A touch lingers against the base of my spine for the smallest fraction of a second, and I feel it everywhere. _Her_ touch.

With my heart in my throat, my head swimming, I turn to find only pale skin and deep brown eyes. Rose lips.

_Today's __the __day_, a voice reminds me. _Today's __the __day._

It must be.

And as it turns out, I didn't even have to do anything.

Bella Swan just talked to _me_.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. Everybody reading/reviewing this story owns me.

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><p><strong>Muppet:<strong> One of a group of puppet characters created by Jim Henson. Usually made of soft foam with googly eyes. Typified by Kermit the Frog, Gonzo the Great, and Bert and Ernie.

Made great, if you ask me, by being cheery and kid-friendly, while also managing at the same time to seem just a little bit world-weary.

* * *

><p>3<p>

Her mouth is moving, and there are sounds coming out. I can even hear them, I think, but there's a disconnect between my senses and my brain.

Bella Swan is talking to me. To _me_.

Her brow furrows, and all I can think is that she's so pretty.

All she can probably think is that I'm an idiot.

I grab the paddles for my mental defibrillator and apply them liberally to my cerebral cortex until the world stops swimming.

"Hi," I say.

I said hello. Well, hi. But that's an acceptable deviation from the plan. It's less formal, anyway. More conversational. That has to be good, right?

Her head tilts to the side, one eyebrow lifting. One side of her mouth lifts, too. God, I love her smile. "Um. Hello."

I've been psyching myself up for this moment for so long, and all my preparation kicks in, finally. "My name is Edward Cullen." I hold out my hand.

She giggles. I can't decide if she's laughing _at_ me or not. But then she makes it irrelevant. She reaches out her hand and grasps my palm. "I know."

My eyes bug out of my head. She knows my name, and she's touching me.

Her handshake is firm, but her skin is soft and warm. I want to hold onto it forever. All too soon, though, she's pulling away, her face blushing the softest pink as she looks down. My brain finally manages to get a message to my hand, and I drop it to my side. My palm is tingling.

"You're Bella Swan," I say.

Her smile is even wider this time. "I know that, too"

Oh, God. She must be getting ready to call the dean and inform him what a simpleton he let into their graduate physics program.

"Of course," I blather. "Of course you do."

We stand there in awkward silence for at least a minute, and there are flashing red lights in my mind. _We're __going __down, __Captain. __Red __alert! __Red __alert!_

"Um…" She looks at me and then over my shoulder. Then she points. "I was coming to get some coffee."

"Right." Of course she was. That's why she's here.

That's why I'm here, too. Every day between the hours of nine forty-five and ten fifteen.

Her smile is more of a smirk now. "You're kind of in the way."

"Right. Right."

If I weren't still so thrilled about having exchanged more than two words with her, I'd be utterly mortified. In an awkward shuffle, she goes left and I go left. Then she goes right and I go right. Finally, I just flatten myself to the wall. She walks past me and straight for the coffee pot. And I feel dismissed.

And for a second, it's just like always. I'm standing there, just out of sight and out of reach, watching.

She grabs her favorite green mug and pours her coffee, then heads to the fridge for the half and half. As she pulls open the door, she looks over her shoulder at me. "Were you going to get some, too?"

And I'm not dismissed. I'm right here.

"Um, yeah. Of course."

After all, taking coffee breaks for the sole purpose of hoping to run into her has led to quite the caffeine addiction.

As I step forward and into her space, the air crackles like we're two plates in a capacitor, and electrical discharge isn't the only kind I'm worried about. In the months I've been watching her, we've both ended up in this room together before, but never so close. Never when I knew she knew my name.

The other mug that matches hers is still on the shelf, and I reach up for it. At the same time, she lifts her arm, going for the same cup. Our hands brush.

And there's got to be an explanation for the spark. Static. Dry air.

_Chemistry._

I shake my head in consternation with myself.

We're both studying physics, after all.

She pulls back sharply with a little gasp. I drop my hand, too, and dart my gaze her way, only to meet those same, beautiful eyes.

"Sorry."

"Sorry."

Still holding her gaze, I reach for the mug again. She lets me.

She doesn't back away as I fill it, but she doesn't say anything either. Just holds out the carton of half and half. I take it with a quiet, "Thanks," and pour an unhealthy amount in. Leaning there against the counter, we each lift our mugs to our mouths and take a sip, then put them down. The silence stretches on.

So does the awkwardness.

When it reaches the point of being painful, I start to panic as I consider my options. I can take the small victory of an almost-conversation and head back to my office with my tail between my legs. Or I can go for broke and try again.

A dozen possible topics flit through my brain, each more ridiculous than the one before. _So, __come __up __with __a __Grand __Unified __Theory __of __Everything __yet? __You __hear __the __one __about __the __neutron __who __walked __into __a __bar? __How __about __those__… __people__… __who __play__… __whatever __sport __is __currently __in __season?_

Ugh, ugh, ugh.

Then my eyes catch on the Kermit the Frog pin on her jacket.

My mouth opens. "So…you going to go see the new Muppet movie next Wednesday?"

The second the words escape my mouth, I cringe. Stalker much? Worse, she frowns, and those flashing red lights start going off in my head again. _Abort, __abort, __abort!_

It takes a second to realize she's frowning at something else entirely. Something in her head – something that has nothing to do with me. She twists her mouth a little further and stares off into the distance, her grip tightening on her mug. "Actually, no. I'd love to, but I…can't."

"Oh." My face falls. "Suck. Why not?"

"It's complicated."

"I've got time." _I'll __make __time._

Her eyes dart back and forth, from me to the clock and back again. There's something shifty about her eyes. Something that tells me she's a flight risk. I'm coming on too strong.

"I mean," I start again. "If you want to tell me."

Her gaze settles back on mine, and she tilts her head to the side, like she's searching for something. God, but I want her to find it. She steps away, and my heart falls. But then she's gesturing toward the table in the corner.

"You want to sit?"

I can't think of anything I want more.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns these Twilight. I own an old lab notebook and a subscription to Scientific American.

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><p><strong>M-theory:<strong> An extension of String Theory which identifies eleven dimensions. In addition to the four dimensions we normally perceive (length, width, height, and time), there are seven others we cannot perceive. The strings that make up the universe vibrate in several of these dimensions; the way they vibrate influences whether they take on the properties of light, matter, energy, or gravity here in normal, three-dimensional space.

M-theory is also a great way to fuck with the mind of any kid who says he or she wants to be a scientist someday.

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><p>4<p>

"It's funny," Bella says, wrinkling her nose in the most adorable way as she sinks down into one of the hard, plastic chairs. I would have held it out for her, but she didn't give me time.

I take the seat across from her and grip my coffee to keep from fidgeting. "What's that?"

"I've been taking coffee breaks here for two years, and I don't think I've ever actually sat here."

It's not hard to see why she wouldn't. The table is littered with the detritus that seems to follow physicists everywhere – graph paper and textbooks, free-body force diagrams and equations. I shove a stack of them to the side. "I have," I admit. "Back my first semester before I picked an advisor."

_And sometimes when I'm waiting for you._

"Ugh. Those first couple months suck. I think I just hid in the library the whole time."

She did. Third floor in one of the study carrels, pink earbuds in her ears.

My own ears burn as I keep that information to myself.

As we sit there, each staring at our coffees, I think about those first few months. While college hadn't been a cakewalk, graduate school floored me. The classes were harder, the campus bigger. I'd had to interview professors and make decisions that could affect the rest of my career. There'd been no time for sleep, much less girls.

And yet, there she was. Beautiful and brilliant.

And it kept me sane, just watching her.

She spins her mug and frowns. It reminds me why we're here. "So," I prod her. "No Muppets for you next week?"

"No, probably not."

I wait, hoping she'll explain. When no answer is forthcoming, I shift and move my hand from my mug to the table and back again. Then, heart in my throat, I brush her knuckles with mine. _Soft._ "Bella?"

She shifts, and I pull my hand away, swallowing.

"I, um… I'd love to go. But it's the day before Thanksgiving."

"Oh." I'm not quite sure what that has to do with anything. "Are you going home or something?" I realize I have no idea where she's from.

"Actually, I live with my dad. That's the problem."

I furrow my eyebrows and stare at her. I can't imagine a father disapproving of Kermit and the gang. "Will he, like, not let you or something?"

She giggles at that. "No, he loves the Muppets. He's the one who introduced me to them. _The __Muppet __Movie. __The __Muppet __Show._ All that stuff. He took me to all the movies they did back in the 90s." She pauses and stares off over my shoulder. "But his nurse has the whole last half of the week off for the holiday."

String theorists propose that there are eleven dimensions to the universe – that in addition to the normal three plus time, there are another seven, all furled up beneath the reality we see.

I feel like one of them has opened up in front of me.

My voice cracks like I'm thirteen. "His nurse?"

"He's um…he's sick. Well, more disabled, I guess. He has a hard time getting around. It's part of why I have to live at home."

All the things I thought I knew about Bella Swan are flying out the window.

"Damn. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. It's just…hard."

"Can I ask what he has…or what happened?"

I immediately regret asking. She blinks rapidly, and her eyes are shining as she swipes her fingers under them, murmuring, "I'm sorry."

"God, don't be. I'm sorry—"

"No, no. It's good to talk about it. I never do. I never—" There's something to her voice. Like she's leaving so much unsaid, regardless. She takes a couple calming breaths and then gulps at her coffee. "He had a stroke, the summer before grad school. He's better now, but he's still so dependent. The left side of his body doesn't really work right, and he has all these spatial issues. He thinks he can do things he can't, and he needs me or the nurse to check in on him every few hours, and it's hard to take him anywhere, even a simple trip to the movies, because if he fell... I couldn't…"

I get the feeling she knows this from experience.

There's no right thing to say.

I want to touch her. Comfort her. Care for her.

The same things I've wanted all along.

"Crap, Bella. I wish there was something I could do."

She shakes her head sadly. "It's fine. You just took me by surprise. I was such an antisocial bitch when I first got here that no one asks me that kind of thing anymore."

I wince. "You weren't a bitch."

"If you say so. I was just so worried about my dad back then. I didn't have time to make friends or anything. Even now, he needs me so much of the time. And it's kind of too late anyway."

She sounds so alone.

I lower my voice and splay my hand out on the table, itching to touch her again but too afraid she'll pull away. "It's never too late to make friends."

Her lower lip crumples with her smile. "Thanks. You know, you always seemed really nice."

My chest inflates. "I try."

Apparently I never tried hard enough, though. Not with her.

"So, wait a minute," I say, a flash of inspiration striking me. "Is that the only thing stopping you?"

Her eyes widen in disbelief. "You mean _just _my disabled father with heart disease?"

Her voice cracks, a shiver of hurt threatening to break through. It's a willing sacrifice she's making. But seeing the movie isn't the only thing this situation is keeping her from doing.

"Um." I backpedal hard. "I mean…not like that's a little thing or anything. Just that, if he had someone to help…"

"But we don't."

"But if you did."

She narrow her eyes at me. "Are you offering? Do you have a nursing degree in addition to half a PhD?"

Strike one.

"Well, no, but—"

"Edward, this is just—"

"But didn't you just say he used to take you to these movies?"

"Yes," she answers slowly, suspicion in her gaze.

"Well." I take a deep breath and summon all my bravery. "What if you had someone to go _with_ you? Someone who wasn't a nurse, but who would be strong enough to help if something went wrong. Someone like me?" My voice cracks.

Her jaw hardens. She's about to shut me down.

This is my only chance. I can taste it. So I say the last thing I think she'd expect. My in.

My chance to do something right by her.

"Don't you think your dad might like to go, too?"


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a Hoberman Sphere.

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><p><strong>Simulation:<strong> Typically, in a physics setting, a simulation is a computer program used to predict how a system will react to some event. The physicist has to create a model of the system by simplifying it down to its core features. The program then progresses the model through whatever variables the physicist wants to test.

It's also a way to try out an idea for an experiment cheaply and easily because you don't have to actually, you know, _do_ the experiment unless it works out.

* * *

><p>5<p>

"Edward Anthony Cullen. What do you mean you're not coming home until Thanksgiving Day?"

I pull the phone away from ear, cringing. "Mom, I already said I'm sorry, but this is important."

"Important? More important than family?"

"You're completely overreacting. I'll be there Thursday. I'll even leave at some ungodly hour in the morning, but I just…"

How can I explain to my mother what this means to me?

That Bella Swan said yes to me. To _me_.

Mom's rant fades into the background as I think about that moment. After I'd explained my plan – to accompany both Bella and her father to the movies – her expression had gone blank for a second. And then the waterworks had started up again.

"Really?" she'd asked. "You would do that for me?"

_All that and more, Bella._ "Of course."

And it had seemed so strange. That someone could be so surprised at an offering of kindness.

The shrill voice on the line interrupts my reverie. "Edward? Are you even listening to me?"

_Shit_. "Of course I am. Look, Mom, it's a done deal. I promised a favor to a friend, and she really needs the help, okay?"

There's an unexpected moment of silence. "_She_, Edward?"

_Double shit_. "Um, yeah. My friend, Bella." I think I've earned the right to call her that. Although I'd rather call her something more.

_Easy there. One step at a time. As of yesterday, you hadn't even talked to her._

"And why haven't I heard about her before?"

My brain goes on high alert, sensing a Mom-trap. This is tricky. "We've just gotten closer recently." _Like in the last ten hours_. "But we've had classes together for years."

In other words, recent enough that I haven't left Mom out of the loop – long-standing enough that it's non-trivial.

I can actually feel her stare through the line.

"Well, all right, then. But I'll be expecting to hear all about her when I see you. Bright and early Thursday, right?"

"Just as early as I can." I cringe in anticipation. It's a three hour drive for goodness's sake.

"Bright and early."

With a sigh I give up. "Bright and early," I agree. My fingers are crossed behind my back, though. Our definitions of early don't necessarily overlap, and if she isn't going to define parameters…

"Before noon, that means."

"Fine, fine," I grumble, knowing when I'm beaten. "I'll see you then, Mom."

"Love you."

I'll never not feel like an eight year-old boy, being mooned over by his mother in front of his friends when I tell her, "Love you, too."

I hang up the phone and turn back to my empty living room. Only it doesn't look as empty as it sometimes does.

It might not be til Wednesday – and it might be with a girl and her father – but I have a date.

I have a date with Bella Swan.

#

All night long, I'm distracted and restless. Even killing things online doesn't help me settle down; working is completely out of the question. I just keep replaying the conversation with Bella in my mind, poring through it for hidden meanings – any sign that she could someday feel for me what I already feel for her.

There are images of her face and the feel of her skin, soft and warm. Her lips.

I wonder what it would be like to kiss her.

But in and amongst those idle thoughts are a whole host of darker ones. The revelation about her father haunts me, and I can't help thinking about how lonely it must be. While my officemates drive me crazy, they're also my friends, and I can't imagine what my life would be like without them there to talk to. I keep to myself a lot, but I go to the parties the people in the department hold, head out to happy hour at the bar on Tuesdays, have friends over to watch anime and movies.

What does Bella do? Who keeps her company?

For so many reasons, I kick myself for not offering her my friendship sooner.

Even if that's all she might ever want from me.

Eventually, I give up and shut my computer down. I head to bed early, but even there, I toss and turn, worrying about her. Feeling sorry for her. _Thinking _about her.

Exasperated, I tuck my semi into the waistband of my boxer briefs and will my thoughts to safer territory, but over and over again they stray. While I'm no stranger to taking care of myself, I always try not to think of anyone in particular. It just seems wrong somehow. Still, thoughts of Bella creep into my fantasies half the time anyway. Tonight, it seems particularly wrong to imagine her that way. Now that I know her better, I want so much more than her body – I want her mind and her voice, her smiles and her blush.

And I _want_ her. I want her over me and under me and touching me.

I groan into my pillow and flip over to my back.

Guilty and needy, I push my underwear down over my hips and reach to my bedside table for some lube. I slick my hand and myself, and within a couple strokes I'm fully hard. The images I rely on cycle through my head, fantasies about brunette beauties, their hands and mouths on a body that looks better than mine. But each image morphs.

Right or wrong, they're all about Bella. Bella and me.

Before I know it, I'm in that break room again, her body so close to mine as we each reach for a mug. Only this time, when my fingertips meet hers, they don't pull away. Instead, I follow her arm down down down. I touch her neck and cup her face, brush my thumb across her lip.

I tell her she's so, so beautiful. She tells me she wants me.

And then I'm inside her, there on that cold, tile floor. I imagine slickness and heat and all the things I've never felt before.

I imagine her telling me she loves me.

Everything disintegrates, flashes and words, lips and a kiss and her hand on my heart, and I'm spilling, everything hot, my skin burning as I whisper her name.

I squeeze myself and groan, twitching as I milk out the last few drops. I smear come across my skin and close my eyes. My self-inflicted orgasms are rarely so good, and yet I feel empty. Alone.

My stomach turns as I clean myself up and tuck myself back in beneath my clothes. I'm clearer-headed now, but it's not much help.

Fantasies are no longer a substitute.

I need to make her mine, need to be with her. I _need_ to.

It hurts.

Because I don't know how to make her need me, too.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own more physics textbooks than I know what to do with.

* * *

><p><strong>Quantum Loop Gravity:<strong> A competing theory to String Theory that also attempts to unify quantum mechanics and general relativity. Instead of looking at the particles that make up the universe the way String Theory does, Quantum Loop Gravity looks at the nature of space itself. It proposes that instead of being smooth, space is made up of a grainy fabric of little tiny loops with their own gravitational fields.

Like in any other area of life, the proponents of String Theory and the proponents of Quantum Loop Gravity tend to each act as if people from the other side are raving idiots. Because, you know. Some theoretical physicists are clearly just not that smart.

* * *

><p>6<p>

I spend the weekend the way I always do. I play video games online and try to figure out what's wrong with my simulations. I try to think of what I'll say to Bella Wednesday night.

All three efforts end in virtual bloodshed.

Sunday night, my friend Ben comes over and we watch anime for hours. By the time he leaves, it's stupid late and my eyes hurt. Still, I check my email before I go to bed, skimming over updates from my research partners, sappy jokes from my mom and an article about quantum loop gravity from Dad.

When I get to the last message in my inbox, my eyes bug out of my head.

_To: Edward Cullen_

_From: Bella Swan_

_Subject: Wednesday_

I stop right there, close my eyes and swallow hard. She's going to cancel. I just know she is. After a few deep breaths, the anticipation of pain settles down into a dull, low ache.

I wince and open one eye.

_Edward –_

_Hi! It's Bella, from school. Hope you don't mind, I got your email off the department list. Just wanted to thank you again for the offer to go with us. I told my dad and he almost cried. He wants me to thank you, too. We're really looking forward to it, assuming you still want to go. (You still want to, right?)_

_Anyway, just so you're prepared for what you're getting yourself into, here's a link to some of the trailers they've been putting out. I think you'll like the Green Lantern one, especially._

_Can't wait!_

_ -Bella._

I have to read the message a dozen times before I get it through my skull. She still wants to go with me.

She wants to go with _me._

My whole face hurting with how hard I'm smiling, I click on the links in the message. Some of the trailers I've seen before, but some, like the Green Lantern one, are new. I watch them all, not wanting to be called out for inadequately educating myself.

Afterward, I sit back and try to compose a reply that doesn't give away how hopelessly devoted I am. I think it leaks into the prose regardless.

_Bella,_

_Hey! Of course I don't mind you emailing me, and yes, of course I still want to go on Wednesday. _

_I watched the trailers, and you're right. They were really funny. How did you know I like super hero movies?_

_See you tomorrow,  
>Edward.<em>

Before I can click to put my computer (and myself) to sleep, I hear the ping of a reply.

_I don't know. How did you know I like Muppets? ;)_

I groan. There is no good way to answer that.

I shut the computer down without replying, figuring I'll come up with something by tomorrow.

Hopefully.

#

Only I don't. Not at all. My brain's a giant, vacuous blank.

As the morning creeps on, my panic grows and grows, until even Jasper is telling me to calm the fuck down.

Because that really helps.

Nine forty-five rolls around, and I still haven't figured things out. For the first time in years, I'm considering skipping my morning coffee break. My Bella break.

My chest hurts.

Then, out of nowhere, there's a knock on the door. I look up from my monitor, expecting Professor Molina or one of the post-docs. But it's not. God, but it's not.

"Um, hi?" Bella's standing there, her expression timid, her smile soft.

And she's wearing heels. And blue.

I whimper and try not to stare. She doesn't like it when people stare.

"Well, hello there, little lady. What can we do you for?"

I turn to Jasper, livid, only to see him leaning back in his chair with his usual self-assured grin. I want to wipe it off his face and call him out for being a womanizing dick. The fucker isn't even really Texan.

My anger propels me out of my chair, though once I'm standing, I'm not sure entirely what to do. I put one hand in my pocket and adjust my glasses with the other, cringing at my awkwardness. "Um, hi. Bella."

She smiles and it makes my ribs expand. "Hey, Edward." She glances at Jasper and a now-interested Emmett, too.

I am never going to live this down.

Jerking her thumb toward the hallway behind her, she tilts her head in question, her brown eyes locked with mine. "I was just stopping by to see if you were headed over to the coffee room? Seems like you usually go right around now."

"Yup," Jasper says, his grin smug. Making a less than subtle up-and-down motion with his fist, he continues, "Like clockwork. Every day around ten, Eddie here gets off…" My glare could burn holes through his stupid hipster T-shirt. "…his ass and goes to get us coffee. Right, Emmett?"

"Whatever, man."

"Anyway," I interject, stepping forward and holding out my arm to shepherd Bella out of the office.

"I like mine black," Jasper calls after us. "No _cream_, you hear?"

I don't even look back at him – just extend my hand behind my body and flip him off.

Bella and I are half-way down the hall before Jasper's laugh fades away behind us. And so it takes me that long to fully process what's happening. Bella came to get me. We're taking our coffee break _together._ Like, intentionally. And she even knows about it.

She's the first to speak. "Are they like that all the time?"

"Ugh." I shake my head and grip the back of my neck. "Pretty much. I've asked for a transfer, but apparently all the other circles of hell are full."

"Well, at least you get an office. Banner's research group is so poor we're stuck in the cubicles."

"Yeah, I know. That must suck."

"It could be worse. I do have walls, even if they're fabric-covered."

"Hey, as long as they're not padded you're doing all right."

She laughs, and it's beautiful. "One does have to draw the line somewhere."

We arrive at the break room a few seconds later, and it dawns on me again how huge this is. I pause just outside the door and gesture for her to go first. She nods and walks ahead.

This time, when she opens the cupboard, she pulls out two mugs right away.

I can hardly drink my coffee, my grin is so wide. She's so close. So close that I could touch.

Were I braver, I might.

We're still standing there, our backs to the counter, when she speaks again. "So you really didn't mind me emailing you last night?"

"Are you kidding?" I try to school my expression, but it isn't working. So I go for broke. "It made my night."

"Cool." She's hiding her own smile behind her mug. "Just wanted to check since I didn't hear back from you again."

"Yeah." There's sweat on the back of my neck. I shove my hair back and straighten my glasses again. "I, um, went to bed right around then."

"Oh. Okay." She hums and purses her lips, taps her thumb against the mug. "I didn't _know_ you liked superhero movies, you know."

"No?" Isn't it obvious? I have Superman underwear, for goodness' sake.

The idea of Bella seeing my underwear doesn't help my frame of mind.

The corners of her mouth twist up. "Just a good guess, I suppose." Her eyes dart up to mine. "So what's your excuse?"

"I…um…" I can't breathe.

_I'm a giant weirdo stalker. And you're so damn beautiful._

She lifts her eyebrow. But she's still smiling.

I compose myself the best I can and shift from foot to foot. "Well, I mean, I walk past your cubicle sometimes." _Every chance I get._ I shrug. "You're always playing Muppets songs."

"Yeah? You recognized them?"

"Sure. I know a bunch of them." Well, I do now.

"What's your favorite?"

I skim through the whole catalog in my mind. It's like asking someone who's their favorite X-Man or their favorite scientist.

Or, heaven forbid, their sign.

She's going to decide who I am based on my answer.

So I skip the most obvious ones, finally alighting on one I think is right. One that I like and that says something about who I am. Wistful and hopeful all at once. "Gonzo's song, I think. I'm Going to Go Back There Someday?"

I hold my breath. But then she smiles. "Good choice."

"I thought so," I answer, voice strained.

There's a beat or two of silence, and then she murmurs, soft and low, "'There's not a word yet for old friends who've just met.'"

It takes me a second to realize she's quoting from the song.

My heart expands, as brilliant and light-feeling now as it was heavy and painful last night. Because, in this moment, that's _exactly_ how it feels. Like we're old friends who've just met. Like this is easy.

_Like you've been following her around for years and you finally got the nerve to talk to her._

I swallow that thought. "Great song."

"It is," she agrees, smiling. She puts one hand between us on the counter, close enough that her pinky brushes mine. "One of the best."

And I feel like I've passed a very, very important test.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a TI-86 calculator.

* * *

><p><strong>Laboratory Notebook:<strong> In order to protect their research, scientists keep notebooks that document all of their findings. Composition notebooks are particularly popular because it's difficult to remove pages from them without detection. The pages are all numbered ahead of time, and findings are written in ink and carefully dated so they can be used as evidence in patent cases, etc.

And if you're lucky, the stuff scrawled in the notebook might even be legible.

* * *

><p>7<p>

After we finish our coffee, I walk her back to her cubicle. She protests that it's not necessary, but after she picked me up at my office I insist it's only fair. Once there, I stand just inside the open door, arms crossed over my chest, feeling awkward and too tall.

She turns to face me, but stumbles backward as she does, hitting her chair and jarring the desk, jolting her computer monitor to life. It lights up with a shockingly vivid shade of green. I squint at it for a second before recognizing the picture of Kermit the Frog dressed up as the Green Lantern from the trailer she sent me.

It makes me irrationally happy for some reason. Smiling and pointing at the screen, I turn back to her to find her blushing brightly. I'm not sure why, so I ignore it the best I can. "Cool background."

"Yeah," she agrees, looking down. "It made me happy."

She stops there, so I take a moment to look around. While I've been by here often enough, I've never been invited in before.

Well, technically I followed her here and invited myself in. But it's not like she stopped me, right?

Shaking my head at myself, I direct my gaze around the four bare walls, looking for glimmers of her, but there's not much to see. Just a pile of textbooks and composition notebooks, some papers and pens and a TI-86.

And one photo.

I point to it. "May I?"

She nods. I have to lean in close to pick it up, my arm grazing hers, and I swear I feel it everywhere. She shivers and steps back, so I try to focus on the frame in my hands. At the beautiful girl behind the glass and not the one before me.

In the picture, she's dressed in a graduation cap and gown, and her arm is wrapped around a man of middle age. He has a mustache, and he's tall, but his and Bella's coloring is much the same. There's something of her in his eyes.

He looks so, so proud.

"Your father?"

"Yup." Her voice wavers slightly as she leans in, her body warm where it's almost touching my side. "That's from…before."

"You guys looks really happy. You were close?"

"We were." She pauses, and her forehead furrows. "Are. We _are_ close."

But things clearly aren't how they used to be. Not at all.

Pretending to still be looking at her father, I let my gaze drift to this younger version of the beautiful girl beside me. She looks younger, and her cheeks are fuller, her smile more wide. I want her to smile like that for me someday.

Hell, I want her to smile like that again, period.

She clears her throat, and I can tell I've stared too long. When I put the picture back down, I give her a quick glance, but there's something too heavy to the air. Too intense. My fingers flex at my side, yearning to touch her. For the briefest second, I let the impulse win, brushing the backs of my knuckles against her wrist before pulling back, stepping back. With one foot in her cubicle and one outside, I give her a tight smile. She returns it, but it doesn't reach her eyes.

"Well. I guess I'd better get back to work."

"Yeah," she says. She pulls out her chair and sinks into it.

I hesitate, lingering there in the space that's not quite hers and not quite mine before sucking in a deep breath and making up my mind.

I'm just past the threshold when she says my name. "Edward?"

"Yeah?" I whip around embarrassingly fast.

She grins, and this time I'm pretty sure she's laughing _at_ me. But it's okay. "Coffee again tomorrow?"

"Yeah." I try so hard to act calm, but inside me, everything's a mess. A bumbling, beautiful, burning-hot mess. "Sounds good."

"Cool."

"Cool."

And then I try not to trip over my own damn feet as I force myself to walk away.

#

I come back to my office to find all the equations that had been up on my whiteboard for the past three months erased and replaced with a gigantic "EC+BS", encircled with a heart. And as if that wasn't subtle enough, Jasper's singing, "Eddie and Bella sitting in a tree, Kappa-Iota-Sigma-Sigma-Iota-Nu-Gamma."

I blush and sink into my chair, grumbling, "God, Jasper, you are such a dweeb." I gesture futilely at my now equation-free whiteboard. "You know, I might have needed those."

"You already copied them into your green notebook two months ago."

How does he remember this stuff?

"Still, they were, like, inspiration or something."

"Yup, and now you have new inspiration." In a sing-song-y voice, he continues, "Eddie's got a girlfriend."

"God. Would you just. Please. Shut. _Up._"

"Oh, come on." He pushes off of his desk, stands and spins around to straddle his chair so he's facing me. The whole while, he's grinning like a maniac. An evil, annoying maniac. "You've been holding out on us." Leaning in conspiratorially, he asks in a fake-whisper, "So how long have you been tapping that?"

My face is burning, and I can't even make eye contact as I dissemble. "It's not even like that."

Jasper pauses for a few seconds, but I can feel him staring at me. Then he laughs. "But you _want_ it to be."

"Whatever." I turn to my computer and shake the mouse to wake the screen. Except my desktop picture of Dr. Xavier from the X-Men has been replaced with Bella's picture from the department website. I throw up my arms and cover my face with my hands. "For fuck's sake."

"It's okay, we all know. When a boy and girl love each other very much, sometimes they—"

And that's when I snap. "Jasper. Seriously. Just shut the fuck up."

"Whoa!" He holds his hands up in a 'who, me?' gesture, and his face goes all innocent. "I didn't realize I was touching a nerve."

"Well, you are." I click around a couple times to reset the desktop picture, forcing myself to take deep breaths to try to calm down. Jasper gives me shit all the time, so I don't know why it's bugging me so much right now. _Maybe because you really do love her. Because this is your best, first chance in so long and you don't want to fuck it up. _Shakily, I explain, "We're just…friends."

For now. I hope.

"Okay, okay," Jasper says. His voice is quieter now, like maybe he's realizing he's pushed me too far. "Listen, I didn't mean to be a dick. Well, yeah, I did, but not that big of a dick. I just thought…"

"Well, don't. Don't think. Don't say. Just…don't."

Of course he can't let it go. "I mean, I knew you were into her, but I thought it was just a little crush. You guys are actually talking now?"

I exhale hard and turn to face him. He looks sincere. "Yeah. Yeah, we are."

"Well, that's great then. Good for you."

"Thanks."

More hesitantly, he starts again, "Can I ask, you know, how? I thought Swan was too good to hang out with us geeks or something."

The implication makes me irrationally angry, but I keep my cool. "No, not at all. She's…she's super nice. She just has a lot of stuff going on at home, you know?" I'm pretty sure I shouldn't say anything more. Something tells me she doesn't share her situation with just anyone. I like the fact that she shared it with me.

Jasper nods sagely, then slaps my arm before turning back to his desk. "Well, I think it's great." At that, I sigh in relief, but I should have known better. Over his shoulder, he calls out, "Just remember to always wear a rubber. You never know where even good girls have been."

I wipe off half the dry-erase marker from my white board banging my head against it over and over and over.

.

.

.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** For those of you who've been asking, the "date" starts in Chapter 8.

Thanks to everyone who's been reading and reviewing. Y'all are better than coffee for keeping me writing when I should have been in bed a long, long time ago...


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a "Don't Drink and Derive" coffee mug.

In other news, it's time to play, "Spot the weird and/or embarrassing thing Rob once said" somewhere in geekward's internal monologue…

* * *

><p><strong>Derivation:<strong> A process of combining and/or mathematically manipulating very basic equations in order to create a more complicated one.

Also, an excellent strategy when you forget an important equation during, say, an introductory physics final exam. Not that I would know from experience or anything…

* * *

><p>8<p>

Wednesday afternoon, I'm standing, staring at my closet in despondency. The whole campus had more or less emptied out by noon, so I snuck out early and headed home to obsess. As I stare at row upon row of geeky T-shirts, my panic isn't getting any less.

What the hell are guys supposed to wear on kind-of-sort-of-not-quite dates?

Beside the rows of T-shirts, there are two dress shirts my mom picked out for me and a single pair of khakis that make me look like I'm asking for a wedgie or a swirly. I discard them all out of hand. I already look like enough of a dork as it is, and the Cineplex is not exactly the Met.

In frustration, I root through my dresser a few more times, pausing for a second on the bottom drawer. In the back of it, I find a Henley that a short-lived girlfriend back in college got for me. She said it made my eyes look green; I thought it was awkward and constricting. Considering my preference for extra-larges in spite of my thirty-two waist, though, that could just be me.

I pull it out and toss it on my bed before taking off the "Friends Don't Let Friends Drink and Derive" T-shirt I got back in my junior year of high school. Standing in front of the mirror on the back of my door, I give myself a quick once over, trying to find something worth admiring. But there's not a whole lot to report. I've filled out a little in the past few years and I've got some muscle now, but on the whole the primary adjectives I'd use would be 'skinny' and 'pale', and the patch of hair across the center of my chest looks like early pubes.

Not that I know what I'm worried about.

It's not like Bella's going to see me with my shirt off.

Pain and longing skitter through my ribs, making it feel like my chest is constricting. I want her to want that.

I want her so much.

Forcing my gaze away, I grab the Henley and tug it over my head, jostling my glasses in the process. I set the frames to rights, then take a grimacing peek. The shirt still feels tight, but in the mirror, it doesn't look too bad. My shoulders seem a little broader. And with my good jeans, I guess I look all right.

It'll have to do.

#

Three hours later, after an awesome dinner of Hot Pockets, Mountain Dew and my own nails, the GPS on my phone tells me my destination's on the right.

I'm so nervous, I'm afraid I'm going to end up tasting my Hot Pockets again.

I pull into the driveway in front of a little green ranch-style house, then sit there idling for a minute as I work to get my courage up. The shades in the front room are drawn, but the lights are on. The one beside the door is shining brightly too, like a welcome sign.

I take two more deep breaths, then turn the engine off and open the door.

Outside, it's unseasonably warm for November, but the air is still crisp and cool. Tugging the edges of my jacket closed, I force one foot in front of the other, my heart racing. When I'm still only halfway up the walk, the front door of the house swings open.

And I forget how to walk.

Framed in light and smiling at me, she's got to be the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

And then she's launching herself at me.

"Oof!" And she's surprisingly heavy.

But that doesn't matter. Nothing matters.

She wraps her arms around my neck, her breath warm against my throat, and I'm no dummy. I'm shocked and mute, but I got a 1560 on my SAT. I put my arms around her too, nearly losing it at the feel of warm, soft girl against my chest, and against my…

I pull my hips back, but she doesn't let go. Instead, she just lifts herself up onto tiptoes.

"OK, so don't freak out," she whispers, talking fast. "But I might have forgotten to mention that my dad used to be a cop."

Who? What?

Her words keep coming out in a rush. "And he might have gotten it into his head that I like you and he needs to scare you away, but please, please, please don't let him, okay?"

With the last syllable, she lets go of my neck and steps back, looking up at me with the most guilty, oh-shit grin.

Oh.

Oh.

So she was just hugging me to tell me that. I drop my arms back to my sides.

But her dad thinks she likes me.

Wait. But does she?

Trying keep my confusion off my face, I force a lame half-smile and start to tell her it's fine, but her eyes keep darting sideways. I follow them to the still-open door. To -

"Jesus Christ," I squeak. "He's got a gun."

I want to grab her and pull her behind me. To protect her. But the only one she seems scared of here is me.

"It's fine," she swears. "He's just, like, cleaning them. None of them are loaded."

I glance from the man at the table to his rifle and back to her. "Promise?"

She nods and grabs my hand.

Her grip is so warm and so soft and feels so good I swear I could face anything.

I damn well better be able to, at least. She turns toward the door and, over her shoulder, mutters, "At least I don't think they are."

But it's too late to ask any more questions. She drags me the rest of the way up the walk and up the little ramp that leads to her door.

And then I'm in her home.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a toy Nerf gun. It probably won't scare away many suitors, though.

Extra bonus points to everyone who identified the "early pubes" comment from last chapter as a Rob quote. Sigh. I do love that boy, but the things he says sometimes... *shaking my head*

* * *

><p><strong>Static Friction:<strong> Friction is the force cause by two objects rubbing against each other. It always acts in the opposite direction of the motion, tending to slow it down. _Static_ friction occurs in the instant when something is just beginning to move, and it is always greater than the friction when something is already in motion.

In other words, it's always harder to _start_ moving than it is to _keep_ moving. This holds true in physics, in getting up from a nap, and in making the first move when there's a girl you like…

* * *

><p>9<p>

The man sitting at the table is clearly the same one from the picture in Bella's office, and yet he's also…not. Older and greyer, he seems absolutely focused on the rifle on the table in front of him. It's not until he looks up that I realize how the one side of his face seems off, the corner of his mouth hanging down. I have to remind myself not to stare.

As his gaze darts from Bella to me and then to our still-joined hands and back to his gun, I have to remind myself to _breathe_.

Fortunately, at that point, Bella steps in. Groaning and rolling her eyes, she stops a couple of feet short of the table, squeezing my hand once before letting it go. "Edward, this is my dad, Charlie." Then she gestures at me while addressing her father. "Dad? You remember me telling you about my friend Edward, right?"

I step forward, but Bella's subtle touch against my thigh tells me to cool it.

I'm anything but cool. _She's touching my thigh._

Her dad doesn't miss it either. The one side of his face pulls itself into a scowling frown. "Yeah, I remember, all right." His eyes meet mine, and he starts to push his chair back.

Bella winces, and she moves toward him, but he waves her off, grumbling beneath his breath. I watch on in nervous fascination as he braces himself and pushes up to standing. He's less than steady, but still plenty intimidating. For a minute, he just stands there, clearly sizing me up. He tilts his head to one side. "So you're the guy who talked my daughter into letting me leave the house, huh?"

And then, miraculously, his mouth draws up into a thin half-smile.

Now, instead of telling me to stop, Bella's hand is at my back, urging me on. I step forward and clear my throat, but my voice still cracks like a thirteen year-old's when I introduce myself. "That's right, Sir," I say, holding out my hand. "I'm Edward Cullen."

He stares at my hand for a second, and I panic, trying to remember which side of his body Bella said was affected by the stroke and whether his right is my right or my left or…

With what I think is a smirk, he holds out the hand I was hoping he would and clasps mine in a tight hold. "Well, then I suppose I have to thank you." In the next instant, his grip goes from tight to painfully tight, and he leans in close to whisper, "But if I catch you pulling any funny business with my daughter—"

"_Dad!_"

Her father drops my hand and straightens up, teetering a little as he does but then catching himself by slapping me on the shoulder. "Just a little bit of guy talk, Bells. Edward here understands, right?"

"Sure. Right."

Bella just shakes her head at us both. "Come on. We should get going."

For the next few minutes, I become an observer of what I imagine is a fairly typical family drama. Bella bustles and her dad keeps trying to work around her to do things for himself. More than once they collide, and everything takes long than it should. I'm starting to wonder how the hell she can do this every day when he says something too quiet for me to hear, and for a second, the Bella I saw in the picture appears, her smile brilliant and her laugh one of the nicest things I've ever heard.

And I get it. I do.

Eventually, they both get their coats and shoes on. Charlie takes a couple shaky, lumbering steps across the room, and Bella lunges for his arm. "Damn it, Dad. Can't you just wait a second?"

"It's right there for goodness's sake."

I follow his pointing hand to a folded-up contraption in the corner. Bella does too and frowns. "You sure you don't want to take the chair?"

"Isn't this bad enough?"

Bella lifts her head and addresses me for the first time since this whole thing began. "Could you grab that? Please?"

"Um. Sure." I take it to Bella, who unfolds it with a couple quick tugs to form a walker of sorts.

Acting like this is the biggest indignity in the entire universe, her dad brushes her hand out of the way, using his good arm to help get his other one situated on the handle. For there, he seems more or less in control of himself as he cuts a clear path toward the entryway, pushing the walker ahead and dragging the left side of his body with him. When he gets close, I rush ahead to hold the door for him. He grunts a low acknowledgement but otherwise doesn't pause as he heads outside.

Bella does, though. She reaches out and grabs my hand, squeezing it just once.

And then she rises up and plants a kiss on my cheek. "Thank you. Really."

My whole face is burning, my palm tingling as I duck my head. "No problem."

"No, really. Thank you. I know he's acting like a curmudgeon, but I haven't seen him this happy in…I don't even know how long."

I haven't seen her this happy either. Ever.

And she's so close. I could just lean forward, could press my lips to—

"You kids coming or what? The movie isn't going to wait for us."

Bella jerks away. And it's only then that I realize just how close she was. Was she leaning in, too? Would she have let me…?

I don't have time to ponder it as Bella bounds down the steps toward her dad and I'm spurred into action, digging through my pockets for my keys and clicking the unlock button on the fob. I pull the door to the house closed behind me and head toward them. In a combined effort, Bella and I get her dad settled in the front seat. I take his walker and fumble with it for a minute before Bella stops me.

"May I?"

Her hand brushes mine as she reaches in to hit a button to collapse the thing down.

"Thanks," I mumble. The air between us is crackling, my whole body keyed up.

And it's not just lust. It's _her._ It's her being so close and so comfortable with me. It's seeing her like this, teasing her dad and acting all protective of him. It's seeing so many of her guards come down.

"Sure." Her voice sounds breathier too, and again I wonder.

I contemplate the possibility, unlikely as it might sound, that she might feel something too.

She pulls away sharply and looks down. Not wanting to push, I nod and smile and take the walker back from her. As I load it into the trunk, she slips into the car, and I take a second to calm myself.

Before long, I find myself in the driver's seat, looking around. Bella's dad is strapped in beside me. And in the backseat…

I look in my rearview mirror.

Sure enough, in the backseat, is the girl of my dreams.

My face almost splits with the force of my grin.

"You actually planning to get going sometime, son?" The look on Charlie's face as I snap my gaze to his tells me he has me pinned. But that's okay.

He doesn't have his guns.

I put the key in the ignition and throw the car in reverse. Sneaking one more peek at Bella, I smile.

"I sure am, sir," I answer. "I sure am."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a copy of _The Muppets Take Manhattan_ that I literally found in a box of Cheerios.

* * *

><p><strong>Caffeine:<strong> A chemical that, in the human body, acts as a central nervous system stimulant, warding off drowsiness and increasing alertness. Found in products such as coffee, tea and some soft drinks. Some studies indicate that it may slightly increase the risk of hypertension, and it does cause a brief spike in blood pressure immediately after consumption.

Though, if you're not at risk for heart disease, it's basically the best thing ever and probably the only reason I ever manage to accomplish anything.

* * *

><p>10<p>

At the theatre, we repeat the same scene from her house, but in reverse. I throw on my hazard lights as I pull into the loading space out front, then jump out to get the walker while Bella helps her dad get out. I ask three times if they're okay before I leave to go park; eventually, Charlie's the one to give me a long-suffering look and tell me to go before he takes my taillight out with his walker. Bella assures me more quietly that they'll be fine, but her look is anything but. She's nervous and looking to me for reassurance. I feel bad that I sort of like it. It makes me feel needed. Useful.

I cut three people off in the parking lot in my rush to get back to them. But it's worth it when I see her smile again.

Inside, I see the whole place through different eyes, understanding for the first time exactly how impossible it is to navigate things that always seemed so easy to me. We wait for the elevator instead of running up the escalator to the ticket booth, and I leave the two of them at a bench to go stand in line for tickets. For the first time in my life, I give no thought to finding the optimal seat for acoustics and line of sight for the screen. Instead, we take the very first row because there's no way in hell we're dealing with stairs.

Once there, it's no surprise but still a delight when Bella sits in the middle of the three of us. I soak it up, loving being so close to her and harboring fantasies of reaching over to take her hand in the dark.

Charlie's voice breaks through my thoughts. "You know, it was good and all, but that really wasn't much of a dinner you made for us tonight, Bells."

I bristle at the thought that he doesn't appreciate her. At the same time, I remember my own gourmet fare from earlier in the evening and my stomach growls.

"Whatever," Bella says flippantly. "Vegetables are good for you."

"A steak once in a while wouldn't kill me either."

"Actually, it might."

"Popcorn sure wouldn't, though. It's heart-healthy. Or at least that's what you keep telling me when you refuse to buy chips."

Oh.

Right. So that's his angle.

I stand up, missing the heat of Bella's arm against my side immediately . "You guys want sodas, too?"

"Edward, you don't have to—"

"Coke, please. And extra butter. Lots of salt."

Bella cuts him off. "Caffeine-free Diet Coke, and he and I can split one. No butter. No salt." She pauses and then gives me a sheepish grin. "If you're going anyway."

Charlie scowls, but there's humor in his eyes. "You see what I have to deal with? She's freaking Nurse Rached. You sure you want to get mixed up with a girl like this? If you're not careful, she'll have you eating tofu and sprouts, too."

"I have never cooked sprouts. For goodness's sake, Dad."

I hold his gaze for a second while Bella's protesting so he knows I'm sincere. But then as I answer, I look at her, heart in my throat, blood pounding. "Yes, sir. I do."

It's all I can do to force myself to leave when she blushes but doesn't look away.

Walking to the concession stand, I am equal parts elation and terror.

The previews are just starting when I return a few minutes later, juggling one giant bucket of popcorn (a little butter and a little salt) and a drink-carrier filled with three small sodas (one regular Coke for me, one caffeine-free regular Coke for Charlie, and one caffeine-free Diet Coke for Bella - yeesh). Bella scowls as I pass them out, but Charlie looks at me like I've just made a friend for life the instant he tastes his. Hopefully he'll remember that when we get back to his house and his collection of guns.

I sit back down beside Bella and flex my hand into a fist, relaxing and constricting again and again, uncertain what she'll do now that I've spoken so boldly. Fortunately, she doesn't make me wait too long. As the theatre lights dim, Bella puts her hand on my forearm and leans in.

I almost lose it from that alone.

Thankful for the pile of napkins in my lap, I lean in too. A hot sweat breaks out on the back of my neck, my skin prickling like every part of my body is aching to be touched at once.

I want her to say she wants me. That she likes me. That she wants to be mixed up with a guy like me too.

Instead, she whispers, "I'll pay you back when we get home."

My stomach is doing flip-flops. That isn't the response I was hoping for. "You don't have to, really."

"I can't take advantage of you like that."

Does she have no idea? Still?

I'm ready to hyperventilate, but emboldened by the way she's touched me, somehow I manage to make my body do what I want it to. Freaking out the entire time, I reach over and squeeze her hand, leaning back so I can look her in the eyes. Speaking at plainly as I can, I tell her, simply, "You're not."

Our gaze seems to last forever, and her lips are parted and full. With the light from the screen washing over her features, she's glowing. So, so beautiful.

But my awe doesn't drown out my fear. Maybe she _is_ taking advantage of me. Maybe this is her way of telling me she'll never give me what I want. Or maybe she thinks _I'm_ taking advantage of _her,_ demanding she touch me in repayment. But I would never – I wouldn't –

She swallows, still searching my eyes, and she opens her mouth, but no sound comes out. The anticipation is killing me. Then she squeezes my hand. And so quietly, she says, "All right."

In a deft move that takes my breath away, she intertwines our fingers.

And then she turns to look back at the screen. But I don't. I just watch her.

In that moment, I swear I could watch her forever.

Or at least until Charlie grumbles and shoves the popcorn bucket into her lap. She rolls her eyes conspiratorially at me but thanks her dad. And most importantly, she doesn't let go of my hand.

It hasn't even started yet.

But already, this is my new favorite movie in the world.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own the entire set of _The Muppet Show_ DVDs.

Lyrics to "Life's a Happy Song" by Bret McKenzie. I highly suggest listening to it. It's kinda the happiest thing ever.

* * *

><p><strong>Rocket Science: <strong>A colloquial term for aerospace engineering. Involves the design and construction of aircraft and spacecraft, including determining the necessary (ahem) thrust required to leave orbit, the aerodynamics of the craft, etc.

Also, apparently, something that most things are easier than.

* * *

><p>11<p>

And it only gets better from there. Still lost in the shock of Bella's skin against my palm, I let the previews pass by me in a blur, but before long the theatre goes fully dark and a cute, foam face appears on the screen, and I know it's time. Bella is suddenly all laser-like focus as she bounces in excitement. It's not unfounded. The opening scene is witty and fun, and the first song is the kind of number that makes it impossible not to smile.

_Everything is great, everything is grand  
>I got the whole wide world in the palm of my hand.<br>Everything is perfect, it's falling into place.  
>I can't seem to wipe this smile off my face.<br>Life's a happy song  
>When there's someone by my side to sing along…<em>

It could have been written about me, right here and right now.

Over the course of the next hour, every time another beloved classic Muppet character shows up, Bella nudges her father, laughing and smiling at him. They're in their own happy bubble, where there are no life-altering disabilities or responsibilities. Just optimism and _joy_.

And I'm a part of it. Every time I sneak a glance at her, it's like remembering all over again why it's such a gift to give. Watching her face light up with happiness… it's a gift.

And about halfway through the movie, I get a present of my own. While our hands have been joined all this time, as Kermit and Miss Piggy go on a romantic walk through the streets of Paris, I feel Bella shifting and leaning closer to me. At the same time, her thumb starts tracing out little arcs on the back of my hand.

My whole body takes notice. This is different. New.

This isn't the touch of a friend. It's more intimate than that. It's the touch of a…

I swallow hard.

Of a _lover_.

And that sparks a whole series of scenes in my head that have absolutely no business in a family film.

The world goes soft and dream-like, awash in a wave of desire so powerful it hurts, as I force myself to loosen up and touch her back. With gentle caresses, I feel her smooth skin beneath my fingertips. Beside me, she takes a deep, shivering breath.

Charlie coughs.

But neither of us pay him any mind.

The rest of the movie plays out in two parallel dramas – the one happening on the screen and the one happening right here in this seat. The one that's happening to _me_. My hand learns hers and she learns mine. By the time the closing number starts – a reprise of the same happy song from the beginning of the movie – I think I could recognize her by the shape of her knuckles alone.

_I've got everything that I need, right in front of me  
>Nothing's stopping me, nothing that I can't be<br>When you're right here next to me… _

The lyrics seep into me. There's nothing stopping me.

I don't have to be the geek who can't talk to the girl.

After all, I think, stroking Bella's hand. I've already come so far.

#

"Hey, Bells?" Charlie turns in his seat to look at her. "I'm pretty tuckered out. Do you mind grabbing the chair?"

"Sure thing, Dad."

We've just pulled into the driveway in front of their house. Sure enough, he seemed even less steady on the way out of the theatre than he had on the way in, but I'm still surprised to hear him effectively admitting weakness this way in front of me. Unless…

The minute Bella closes the car door behind her, Charlie turns to me, an undeniable Dad-look on his face. I swallow. Right.

"Help me out, Edward?"

"Yes, sir."

I get out and head over to his side of the car. He's already got the door open by the time I get there, but he has yet to try to actually stand up. I offer him my hand the way Bella did earlier, and he takes it without hesitation, bracing all his weight on me as he pulls himself up. I step back, but even once he gets to standing, he doesn't let go.

His expression serious, his voice low, he intones, "That was a damn nice thing you did for me and Bella tonight."

"I'm glad you had a good time."

"Best night I've had in a long while." He holds my gaze as he continues. "I won't forget that."

I nod, but I'm not exactly sure what to say.

"Whatever is going on between you and my daughter is none of my business." He looks me up and down before returning to my eyes. "And she could definitely do a lot worse."

It's not exactly a compliment, but something tells me that, coming from him, it's about the highest praise a guy could hope to get. "Sir, I—"

I'm not even sure what I'm about to say. _My intentions toward your daughter are honorable?_

A dozen of the images that have fueled my fantasies pass in front of my eyes.

Fortunately, he spares me from having to lie to him. Shaking his head, he interrupts, putting a crushing pressure on my arm. "That said, if you're still here tomorrow morning, I will not hesitate to shoot you in the face."

"Dad?" Bella's voice calls out. It's even more beautiful than ever. "You okay?"

"Fine, Bells." He turns, loosening his grip and smiling as if everything is normal and he hasn't just threatened my life. I wince as circulation starts up again.

Bella, who is guiding a motorized wheelchair down the ramp, looks from her father's calm face to my dumbstruck one and back again, and I can see the suspicion harden her expression. She doesn't say anything as she brings the chair over and helps her father get settled into it, but over his head, she mouths, "You okay?"

I nod, even though I'm not entirely sure if my heart's restarted yet.

"Thanks, kids." Charlie hardly gives us a chance to get out of the way before he starts rolling forward. "I'm going to turn in. You guys have a good night." He gives me a meaningful look. "Don't stay up too late, you hear?"

My voice cracks as I answer, "Loud and clear."

Bella waits long enough for him to cross the threshold and half-close the door behind himself before turning to me, her hands over her face. "God, whatever he just said to you, please just…pretend it never happened."

Forget that he said he essentially approved of us? No chance. And from the way my heart's still pounding, I doubt the 'shooting me in the face' comment is going to slip out of my memory anytime soon either.

"It's fine," I say, shrugging. "He was just being a dad."

She lets out a long frustrated groan and shakes her head as she drops her hands. "I don't think he's ever going to get that I'm twenty-three years old."

"My mom's the same way. I think it's, like, a parent gene or something."

"Must be."

I say nothing in reply, just humming. Only then she does the same. And so do I. And so does she.

And it's one of those silence spirals, where the deeper down into it you sink the harder it is to claw your way out. It's both awkward and not. We're standing unnaturally close, still not having moved apart after getting her father into his chair. It's cool and crisp and her hair smells nice.

It's a natural time to say goodnight, but something stops me. I don't want it to be goodnight. Not yet. But with how she looks after her dad, it's not like she's going to agree to go somewhere with me, and I can't just invite myself in.

Maybe I should try.

Or maybe I should quit while I'm ahead.

Too bad this isn't rocket science. At least I'm good at that.

I lift my arm and palm the back of my neck, fidgeting in my uncertainty. She looks down and toes the ground.

Shit. She's not going to invite me in.

"So, um…" I start, getting ready to tell her I had a nice time.

But then she looks up. Her face is determined, her eyes clear.

"You wanna come in?"


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a home-made, ancient-looking quilt.

(start shameless plug) Also, just so you know, it's kind of a big day in the Grey household. My new, original Christmas story was just published. Check out jeanettegrey[dot]com/blog if you're interested. (end shameless plug)

On with the geekiness...

* * *

><p><strong>Multiverse:<strong> The set of multiple, possible universes (including ours) that together comprise everything that can and does exist. The many-worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics indicates that if there are multiple possible outcomes of an event, each _will_ happen, just in a different universe. For example, if a die is cast and could land on any of its six sides, there are six different universes, and in each the die would land on a different side. M-Theory also predicts a similar but separate (and much more mathematically complicated) phenomenon.

Also, a really handy way to reboot a science fiction franchise. (See the admittedly awesome 2009 Star Trek movie.)

* * *

><p>12<p>

I would have said yes regardless, but there's something to her gaze – something hesitant. Like she seems to think I might actually say no. I let out a soft, relieved chuckle. "Of course."

"Cool." Her own smile is as radiant as mine feels. She turns and leads me toward the door, and after closing and locking it, offers to take my jacket. Once it's off, her gaze moves down my body, eyes widening, and I almost curse aloud. Should have just stuck with the geeky T-shirt.

Then she smiles. "You look…nice. Really nice."

Or not.

"Oh. Thanks." As she's taking her own coat off, my eyes get stuck around the neckline of her lower-than-usual-cut top, and I have to force my gaze back to her face. "You do, too."

Her cheeks pink a little, but then she gestures toward the back of the house. "Let me go make sure my dad hasn't managed to kill himself? Then was can hang out for a bit?"

"Sounds good."

While she's gone, I take the chance to snoop around, checking out their collection of movies and books. Lots of Muppet stuff, no surprise. But there's also Lord of the Rings and Firefly. It gives me hope.

She reemerges not long after, looking flustered, but when I ask her what's wrong she shakes her head and says she's fine. Gesturing deeper into the house, she holds her hand out. "There's something I want to show you."

Curiosity piqued, I slip my palm into hers, still thrilled by the feel of it. Together, we pass through the living room and on into a hallway. For a second, I wonder if we're heading to her bedroom, and my heart gives a nervous start. I certainly wouldn't mind, but the idea of being alone with her and a bed makes my nerves flare. I've done some stuff with girls before, but it's been a while. A long, long while. My body's overeager reaction makes that clear.

Would she…

Does she…?

I mentally slap myself. We haven't talked about what we are, and so far all we've done is hold hands. That could just be platonic…right?

I'm both relieved and disappointed when the hall empties out into a room with dark wood paneling, a plaid couch and an enormous TV. Charlie's man-cave? I'm not sure why she wants to show me this, but then I spy the door on the opposite wall. Bella pauses to grab an ancient-looking quilt of the arm of the couch before reaching for the knob. Looking back at me, she asks, "You're okay with a little cold?"

I nod, and she opens the door.

We step out into some sort of enclosed porch. Without any lamps, it's lit only by moonlight. True to her word, it's colder than the rest of the house but not as cold as it was outside. It doesn't bother me.

For a minute, I let my gaze wander around the room. There are a couple framed posters on the walls, and I recognize one of them as the Hubble Deep Field survey. The other looks like the Horsehead Nebula. In the corner, there's a small table and chairs, and there's a single wicker-framed sofa. But it's pointed the wrong way, facing the glass wall instead of the center of the room.

That's where Bella leads me.

And the instant I sit down, I understand why.

"Wow."

"I know, right? Somehow, I knew you would get it."

Before us, the sky stretches out, dark and beautiful and vast. With the line of trees at the edge of her yard blocking out the neighboring houses, it's like being outside, in the middle of nowhere. Only without the hard ground and frozen grass.

"Here." Sitting down beside me, less than a foot between our bodies, Bella shakes out the quilt and goes to drape it over the both of us. "You don't mind sharing?"

"Not at all."

I reach out and grab the end of the quilt to pull it over myself. Beneath it, I place my hand on the cushion between us, accidentally grazing her thigh in the process. At the contact, my breath hitches and I pull back. But Bella stops me. Slides her palm into mine. I turn my head to the side to look at her. Just like at the movie, she's in profile, face soft with the glow of the moon. Just like before, she's smiling. But there aren't any Muppets or songs.

Just her and me and the infinite.

I let my own lips curl up into a smile too and stare up at the sky, content to sit there in the silence with her.

And I'm not nervous. I'm relaxed.

Happy.

"This is where it all started for me," she says quietly.

I don't look at her or prod her, just caress her hand with my thumb to tell her that I'm listening.

"My dad and I used to come out here when I was a kid. I used to love to look at the stars. I'd just sit back and stare at them and feel, like, at peace or something. It seemed like if there could be a universe so big and amazing out there, and I was a part of it… I felt like I belonged, you know? Like I fit?"

"Yeah. I know."

How many times have I wondered where I fit?

And just like Bella, I feel like I've found it, here in this room.

"It was right after my mom had taken off, and I think that was part of it, too. Looking up there and knowing she was out there _somewhere_. Looking at the same stars."

My chest tightens, imagining a little girl with long brown hair, alone and star-gazing and missing her mom. "She…took off?"

"Yeah. Dad says she was sort of a free spirit? That she loved me, but she couldn't do the whole married with a kid thing. She tried, though. She stuck around until I was about five. And I know it's crazy. Dad says I shouldn't remember it. But I swear I remember her looking out the window all the time, like she wanted to fly away. When she finally did, I was sad, but I wasn't surprised?"

"That's awful, Bella."

"Nah. We all are what we are. I still get postcards from her sometimes. From all over the world. She seems happy."

She's so matter of fact about her own abandonment. It affects me all the more, considering what she's done for her dad. I squeeze her hand and look at her face, at her eyes as they scan the stars.

She meets my gaze for a second. Her face is soft. Vulnerable. So different from the beautiful but distant girl I've loved from afar for so long.

Seeing her like this, here, I fall in love with her all over again.

She gestures back at the window. "From that point on, I wanted to know everything I could about them. Dad got me binoculars and then a telescope, and we put the little glow-in-the-dark stars up all over my room. Once I figured out what happened inside stars, I wanted to know about the atoms and the molecules. By the time I got to college, it was quarks and Higgs bosons. Just thinking that we're all made of the same stuff those lights in the sky are…"

That's when I get it. She's telling me how she fell in love with physics.

And my heart melts.

As we sit there in silence, it doesn't escape me how big of a thing she's shared with me. That she's usually so private just makes it all the more incredible. I want to give her just as much in return. To give her everything, even though she hasn't asked.

I squeeze her hand and direct my gaze back at the sky.

"It was the opposite for me," I confess. I didn't look at the vastness of the universe, then reduce it down in my search for how it worked. "I started with the little stuff. My mom says I was always taking things apart. My dad helped, which drove her crazy. I don't even know how many clocks and radios and toys we broke. But eventually, I got pretty good at putting them back together. Then I started wanting to build stuff."

"You sounds like more of an engineer," she says. There's a joking tone to her voice. And really, in our field of study, calling someone an engineer is almost an insult.

I don't let it be, though. "I almost went that route. But I wanted to do something new, you know? Something that really mattered." I focus on a distant, brilliant star. And God, it's so cheesy. But it feels safe to say it with her. "I wanted to add to the knowledge of the universe."

Beside me, she shifts, releasing my hand. For a second, I wonder what's wrong. But then she's even closer. She's pressed against my side, with her head against my shoulder, and my mouth goes dry. Taking my hand in both of hers this time, she rubs my palm. "I know _exactly_ what you mean."

Suddenly, with her touching me, the world goes silent and everything is clear.

Some physicists believe that there are infinite parallel realities – that every possible future _is_ a future in another universe that will never touch our own.

And I see two of them spread out before me.

We can go on like this forever. I can wonder if she wants me and maybe, just maybe, she'll go on wondering if I want her. We can share chaste touches until chaste touches become the norm, and I'll always be afraid to ask her if there's more. I can wander in doubt and in unrequited love.

Or I can _not_.

I swallow hard and look down at her face. At her mouth.

Almost of its own volition, my free hand rises up from underneath the quilt that covers us. Shaky, but somehow unafraid, I brush my fingertips along her cheek. Let my thumb stroke the curve under the bottom of her lip.

"Bella," I whisper.

It's a warning. A plea for permission.

Far from stopping me, her hand touches my face, too.

And I can't stop myself. I won't.

So slowly, so tenderly, I lower my head, and for the briefest instant, I touch my lips to hers.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a set of star charts.

Sorry there's no definition today. Geekward didn't break out any vocabulary words and I don't have time to make one up.

* * *

><p>13<p>

_I'm kissing Bella Swan. _

_Bella Swan is kissing me._

And it's brilliant. Soft and sweet.

So perfect that I do it again, lingering just a little bit longer and soaking up the best first kiss I've ever had.

Smiling wide enough to hurt my mouth, I pull back. And she laughs and I laugh, and then I wrap my arms around her and hold her tight, loving the warmth of her face against my chest.

"I've been wanting to do that for so long," I confess, voice wavering. "I can't believe you let me."

She laughs even harder, twisting in my grasp to press her lips against my throat. I feel it everywhere, my body thrumming.

"Why wouldn't I?"

And I don't even give her the list of reasons. Because none of them matter. She's here.

I pull back and put my fingers to her chin, tilting it up so I can kiss her again. I squeeze my eyes shut tight, and still breathing her air, I whisper, "You should probably know…I really like you."

"Well that's good." Her fingertips trace my jaw. "Because I really like you, too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

My heart feels big enough to break, but that's okay. I've given it to her anyway.

Still grinning like a fool, I shift our bodies so we're both facing the window again, but this time with my arm wrapped around her. She fits against my side like she was made to be there, her head resting on my shoulder and her hand on my heart.

Stroking softly at my chest, she muses, "I knew this was my favorite spot."

I kiss her hair and look up at the stars. "It might be mine now, too."

We sit there together in silence for a minute. I hold her close and touch her sweet-smelling hair. For a moment, we bask.

But the air holds something serious, too.

"So." She drums her fingers on my collarbone. Her voice is smaller now, but no less sure. "How's this going to work?"

Part of me just wants to coast along on my post-Bella-kissing bliss, but it's a good question. An important one to address, considering I'm leaving in the morning and won't be back for days. I press my lips against her brow. "I don't know. How do you want it to work?"

It's my first moment of doubt since our lips met. Even with my limited experience, I've always been all in when I'm with a girl, but I know there are other options. Dating. Dating multiple men.

Friends with benefits.

I swallow, unsure about what I can accept.

I wait, hanging on her words.

When they come, they're thoughtful and quiet. Just like she is. "I haven't done this in a long time. Not since before my dad's stroke." She swallows hard. "I don't know how to juggle it. Or how much I can give you. I have so much going on, and he needs so much from me…"

There's a hysterical edge creeping into her words, and I can hear her talking herself out of this. Out of me.

I shake my head. "I know. I know he's your first priority. I know there's school and it's hard and qualifiers are coming up. But…if there wasn't any of that. What do you _want_, Bella?"

_Please tell me you want me._

I don't breathe.

She leaves me there on that edge. She thinks and thinks, until finally, she answers, so slowly, "I'd want to see where this would go. But—"

I'm so relieved, I let all the air out of my lungs with a whoosh, then cut her off with a kiss.

The rest of this we can work out.

"Edward—"

"Do you know what I want?"

It's her turn to stiffen. "What?"

I tune all my expectations down. She has to know how I feel, but she's under enough pressure as it is.

"I want to get to know you better." I kiss the tip of her nose. "I want you to get to know me better, too." Her cheek. "I want to study with you." Her ear. "And watch the stars with you." The space between her eyes. "And watch the Muppets with you and your dad." Finally, finally, I kiss her lips. "Does that sounds okay to you?"

Her answer is a breathy sigh that turns my marrows molten. "That sounds perfect."

"And for the rest…we'll take it as it comes. We're both busy. We'll work around it. And if we like spending time together, we'll find ways to spend more of it."

My confidence is the thinnest possible veneer. Thin enough that she can probably see through it. But she nods anyway. "All right." Her mouth twists down. "No expectations?"

_No expectations._

_Just a mad, mad hope._

I brush my knuckles down the side of her jaw. "Don't get me wrong." Steeling myself, I force the words out. I won't sell myself short. "I want this. But I can do it on your terms. Okay?"

For a moment that seems to stretch on and on, Bella searches my eyes.

Then, quietly and yet so loudly, she says, "Okay."


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a soldering iron.

* * *

><p>14<p>

"So when do you think you'll get back?"

We're standing in the entryway, just inside her front door. My jacket's on; by all appearances I'm ready to go. But I'm not. Not by a long shot. With her hands clasped, one in each of mine, I drink her in.

"Probably not until Sunday." I say it with a grimace. Right now, I don't want to go home to my apartment, much less to my parents' house two hundred miles away. I'd offer to come back early, but I already made my mom mad by delaying my trip to take Bella to the movie tonight. I know when not to press my luck.

"Okay," she say, frowning. "Well, you've got my phone number."

I do. We traded them yesterday, just in case. I smile. "Is that an invitation to call?"

"Or text. Or both."

"Sounds good." Sounds amazing. Sounds like she _wants_ me to call her. "I'd like to hear from you, too."

She looks down at the ground, shy. Coy? And something about her face in this light is so beautiful it takes my breath away.

I let go of one hand and touch her cheek. "May I kiss you again?"

Her eyes meet mine, and then she nods.

It's my last kiss for the rest of the week, and while I expected none of this when I arrived here, I'm now a satiated man looking back upon starvation. I'm greedy.

Stepping even closer to her body, I cup her cheek and slide my other hand around her waist, fingers splayed on the small of her back.

This time, when I lean in, it's not just a brushing or a pressing of lips.

I open for her, just ever so slightly, testing. She yields and puts her hands on my hips.

My heart leaps as I take her bottom lip between mine, sliding over it, damp and sweet, before pressing forward once again. I don't know if she pulls or if I push, but we end up flush against each other, and she's in my arms, sharing open-mouthed kisses that reach into the very deepest parts of me.

And I _want_ her. So badly.

But still, I'm the one to pull away. Reeling from her kisses, high and drunk and happy, I touch her jaw. "Thank you," I breathe, voice raw.

"Anytime." Her one eyebrow arches before she lets me go, the suggestiveness of it nearly undermining all my efforts to be a gentleman.

It seems entirely too soon.

But I could be convinced.

I exhale hard and try to talk my overeager erection down. "I'll call you when I get back into town?"

"Yeah." She nods, and the way she's breathing, I think she's as affected by our kisses as I am. "Sounds good."

I lean in to give her one last kiss. "And maybe before that."

Smiling against my lips, she says, "Okay."

It takes a monumental effort, more willpower than I knew I had left, but somehow I manage to pull my hands from her skin and move to the door. "Have a nice Thanksgiving."

"You, too."

Okay, now we're just stalling.

I pull the door open and walk through it backwards, refusing to take my eyes off her until the very last second. She moves into the gap between the door and the wall, leaning, arms crossed, against the doorjamb.

"Drive safe."

"I will."

I'm being ridiculous. With one last smile at her, I turn and begin the long, torturous walk to my car. Once inside, I strap myself in and turn the engine on.

But even after I back out, when I pause to look back at her house, she's still there. Still watching me.

It's with that image seared into my brain that I make my way back into town.

#

It's late when I get home. For a second, I consider trying to pack, but then I just say screw it and reset my alarm for fifteen minutes earlier.

Lying in the darkness in my bed, I'm glowing. Memories of the night flash through my mind, every word and touch.

It went so much better than I could have ever hoped.

In the end, what I keep coming back to is that _kiss_, though. The one at her door.

My body fills with heat as I live it all again. She was so soft, her mouth so sweet. I didn't even get to taste her properly, but I know.

As I lower my boxers down my hips, I groan. For the first time in two years, I let her face float through my fantasies without guilt or restriction.

After all, she's the one who got me so keyed up. Her kiss. Her breath. Her hands…

I make my palm slick, then wrap it around myself. It feels so good.

And it doesn't take long.

I barely get beyond the feeling of her mouth on mine, barely imagine what it would have been like to press her down into that couch and to push into her, there in the dark, only us and the stars.

My eyes and teeth clench, and I let go, back arching as I pump and twist, releasing in hot streams.

Afterward, I may still be alone.

But I don't feel like I am.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a much smaller bottle of lube than Edward does.

I know 'time apart' chapters suck. I'll try to keep them to an absolute minimum.

* * *

><p>15<p>

The next morning, I pull into my parents' driveway with exactly four minutes to spare, and even that's a minor miracle. All I can say is, thank God there weren't many cops on the road. Once the engine's off, I'm out of the car. I grab my backpack and my duffle and haul ass up the sidewalk, crossing the threshold at two minutes to twelve. Inside, it smells like turkey and pie and home.

"Mom? Dad? Alice?"

"Upstairs, honey."

Dumping my stuff on the landing, I take the stairs up two at a time. By the time I get to the top of them, my mom's already there, hair mussed, clothes covered by her favorite apron, sweet potato smeared across her chin. Without a moment's hesitation, she sweeps me up into a giant Mom-hug.

I'll never get used to the fact that her head fits under my chin these days. Chuckling, I wrap my arms around her. "Hey, Mom."

"You're late."

"Nope. Two minutes to spare."

"Brat." She swats me with a towel, but I know it's all for show. She finally lets me go, pulling back to look at me. "Are they not feeding you at grad school? You're skin and bones."

I roll my eyes at her. "I manage just fine."

Sort of. I mean, at this point, I actually kind of like ramen.

She shakes her head and excuses herself to go check on the turkey, giving everyone else a chance to say hello. As usual, my dad greets me with a firm handshake. "You been reading those articles I've been sending you?"

Ever the troll, my dad's been making a point of trying to convince me that Quantum Loop Gravity is the simpler, more promising candidate for a Grand Unified Theory of Everything. It's really just to get a rise out of me. Ever since I found out Bella was working on String Theory, I've become a die-hard proponent of it. I haven't told him why, though.

"Whenever I get a chance," I assure him.

Which isn't often. I do kind of have a thesis to be working on.

Behind him, my little sister Alice is sprawled out on the couch in her best disaffected hipster pose, her eyes locked on the screen of her iPhone. "Hey, Edward," she ways without looking up at me.

Just to be annoying I go over and ruffle her hair. Joke's on me though; there's so much junk in it I had might as well be ruffling polycarbonate steel. I grimace and ignore her smirk to lean in and plant a kiss on her cheek. "Hey. When'd you get in?"

"Yesterday. Because I'm the angel child."

Dressed in black from head to toe, she sure looks like it. "If you say so."

"Take pity on your old man and play a game of chess with me? Angel that your sister may be, she's been ignoring me."

"Sure, Dad. Just let me take my stuff upstairs." _And check my phone._

Dad waves me off so I go back and grab my bags and take them to my old bedroom in the attic. The minute I open the door, I'm swept up in nostalgia. I haven't really lived here in years, but everything is just the way I left it, Star Wars posters and all.

I toss my things down beside the bed and then plunk down on the end of it, phone in hand. My heart leaps when I see a new message waiting for me. Sure enough, it's from Bella, and it came in nearly an hour ago.

_Drive going well?_

It's simple enough, but I like just knowing she was thinking of me. I type out a reply as quickly as I can, hoping my parents won't get annoyed and come looking for me.

**_Just got in. Got attacked by my mom the minute I walked in the door, but other than that I'm safe and sound._**

To my delight, she responds immediately.

_Poor thing. Could be worse. At least you don't have to cook._

**_I bet your cooking is amazing._**

God, I'm such a dork. But I hit send anyway.

_You'll have to come over and try it someday._

I'm grinning like an idiot.

**_Yes, please._**

I hang out for a minute, hoping for another reply. Hoping I haven't overstepped.

_LOL. When you get back, I'll have you over. _

It's followed right after by another.

_Just so you know, Dad's insufferably happy today. Pretty sure it's all your fault._

**_I'm…sorry? (Actually, I'm not. And I'm pretty happy, too.)_**

_Yeah? Why's that? ;)_

Heart pounding, I stare at the screen. Is she flirting? Is it even possible to flirt over text?

_Of course it is, you idiot. It's what you've been doing for the past ten minutes._

Still buoyant from how we left things, I let the truth speak for itself.

**_I kissed a beautiful girl last night._**

The thirty seconds I wait are among the longest of my life.

_Funny. Because I kissed a really hot guy last night._

I have to read it twice. _Bella thinks I'm hot._

My dad's voice breaks the mood completely as he calls, "Edward? You coming back down sometime today?"

Shit. I look at the time and realize I've been holed up texting with Bella for longer than I realized. "Yeah, Dad. Be right down."

I take a second to type out a quick explanation.

**_Whoops. Family beckons. _**

_Have fun. xoxo_

I stuff my phone back in my pocket and throw myself back down the stairs, still giddy and buzzing just from electronic hugs and kisses. God, how am I going to survive when I get real-life ones again?

Back in the living room, Dad and Alice are still where they were, and I can hear Mom banging around in the kitchen.

With the chessboard already set up in front of him, Dad adjusts his glasses and raises one eyebrow as he invites me to sit down. There's something meaningful to his gaze. I take care to wipe the Bella-induced smile off my face. But it's too late.

Picking up his pawn, he considers the board and hums. "So how did things go last night? With your '_friend'_? Bella was it?"

I am so busted.

"Good." My voice squeaks. I'm really, really busted.

"And is it Bella you were upstairs compulsively texting with?"

My traitorous cheek turn scarlet. "Yeah."

He doesn't press any further, but both Alice and Mom must have heard.

This is going to be a very, very long weekend.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own two Star Wars T-shirts.

* * *

><p>16<p>

"Esme, dear? Would you like to start?"

Sitting at one end of the table, looking much more put together than she did when I first got here, my mom smiles at my dad and nods. It's our usual family tradition of saying what we're grateful for.

The whole time, I just keep eyeing the food.

"Well, let's see," Mom starts. "I'm grateful to have my wonderful children back here at home. For my loving and supportive husband." She rambles on for a few more minutes, listing what must be every single one of her garden club buddies, before eventually she looking up and smiling.

The rest of us all sigh in relief.

"I'll go next," Alice says. "I'm grateful for my mom for cooking, for my dad for paying my tuition, and for Steve Jobs, for inventing my phone. Rest in peace. Next?"

Dad always goes last, so it's up to me.

I open my mouth to start, but then I hesitate. Usually, this is easy. I give thanks for whatever happens to be my favorite video game at the moment and for my family and I pass the buck.

But I'm grateful for so much more this year.

Alice coughs and kicks me under the table.

"Ow," I hiss, glaring at her.

"Children…"

"Sorry, Mom," Alice and I both mumble at once.

Deep breath. "I'm grateful for Gears of War 3. For my family. For Brian Green for popularizing string theory. And…" I hesitate, knowing I'm giving too much away. But then I say it anyway. "And for Jim Henson for creating the Muppets."

_And, thereby, indirectly, for bringing Bella to me._

There goes Dad with the suspicious eyebrow again. He clears his throat. "Well. That was… touching. Both of you. Like my wife, I'm grateful to have you both home. Grateful to Stafford for making student loans. And grateful to your mother's foresight five years ago for banning telephones at the dinner table."

Yeah. So Alice and I may have continued with our obsessive texting throughout the afternoon. So sue us.

Even now, my phone's a lead weight in my pocket, and it's taking all my willpower not to check it to see if Bella's sent me anything new.

"All right," Dad says. "Go ahead and dig in."

I don't waste any time. My limited efforts at cooking go to hell when I'm stressed out, and between school and worrying about not messing up my chance with Bella, I've been eating even worse than usual of late.

And my mom's turkey is freaking awesome.

I moan embarrassingly loudly as I dig in.

Only to choke when Mom turns to me. "So, Edward. Tell us more about this girl you were helping last night."

I chew thoughtfully for a second, uncertain when I'm going to get another bite in. "Bella? Um, she goes to school with me."

"Right. So you mentioned." Mom's trying to look and sound casual, but if she was a cat, she'd have feathers sticking out of her mouth.

"Her, um, her dad had a stroke a couple years ago. And she takes care of him. She just…needed help with something."

Alice fixes me with a withering glare as she slices up her meat. "Just come out with it already. You know she's going to drag it all out of you anyway."

"I do not _drag_, Alice. I just like to know what's going on in my children's lives."

An image of me, scraping along the ground, tied to the back of a speeding horse appears in my mind.

I sigh. "Well, there's really nothing to tell."

Clearing his throat, my father breaks in. "Are you and this girl romantically involved?"

Burning with embarrassment, I stuff a huge mouthful of sweet potatoes in my mouth to buy some time. I think it's safe to say we are in fact romantically involved – the very thought of which makes my insides flutter – but admitting as much to my family is dangerous. They will never, ever, ever let it go.

"Um," I say. "It's complicated."

Alice's eyes gleam evilly. "Do you looooooooooooooove her?"

I glare at her. For a second, I imagine what it would be like if she and Jasper ever teamed up, combining their powers of annoyingness, and I shiver. I can't imagine a worse possible outcome for the tattered remnants of my dignity.

Letting my silverware fall to my plate, I drop my head into my hands, then rake both through my hair. I leave them there and brace myself with my elbows against the table, staring down at my dinner to avoid looking at any of my tormenters.

Alice was right. I should have just come out with it all in the first place.

"Okay. Look. Yes, Bella and I are involved, but it's super, super new and I don't know if anything is going to come of it. Yes, I like her a lot. Yes, I hope we end up together and get married so we can give you guys, like, a bazillion grandkids. What we did last night was take her dad to see the new Muppet movie on opening night, because he's disabled and never gets to go anywhere, and it was a special treat for him. No, we're not having sex yet, and before you even ask, Dad, if we ever do, we will be very, very safe, right up until the aforementioned marriage and baby-producing."

I look up at their stunned faces and exhale hard. "Okay? Everybody satisfied?"

They all stare at me in silence for a minute. My mom is blushing even redder than I am and my sister looks like she's about to vomit up what she's managed to eat so far of her turkey. My dad actually looks…proud?

Finally, the one corner of Mom's lips curls up into a smile. "Entirely." Then, without missing a beat, she turns to Dad. "So, Carlisle, how's work going?"

I sink into my chair, relieved to have the spotlight off of me.

But something tells me I am nowhere near done hearing about this yet.

#

That night, after _It's a Wonderful Life_ and pie and euchre, I hole myself up in my room, hand almost too sweaty to hold my phone. After collapsing back onto my bed, I close my eyes and wince and hit send.

It only rings once.

"Hello?"

I swear to God she has the sweetest voice in the entire world.

Mine, on the other hand, is rough with anxiety. "Hey. Bella. It's me. Edward."

"I know. I saw on the caller ID."

"Oh. Right." Of course she did. "I, um…I just wanted to say hi." My nerves are already turning into nausea. Maybe she didn't really mean it when she said I could call? Or maybe it's too late? I glance at the clock. It's only nine…

"Good," she says, "Hold on just a sec." There's the sound of a door closing and then rustling. I still don't even know what her room looks like, but I'm imagining her there. Maybe on her bed, just like I am. Except, you know, without the Ewok plush. Maybe in some skimpy pajamas…

I gulp.

Her voice when she speaks next is softer. More relaxed. More…intimate. "I was hoping I'd hear from you."

My heart soars. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." More rustling in the background. "So how was your Thanksgiving?"

"Ugh. Brutal. My parents were totally on a fact-finding mission, and my sister lives to see me squirm."

"Yeah? What were they giving you a hard time about?"

"Ummm." Shit. "Well, actually, um. You?"

Should I not have told them about her yet? Is she going to think-

She giggles. "What about me?"

"Um, well. They asked, and, well. Shit, I'm really bad at lying."

"Edward. Did you tell them I was girlfriend or something?"

The word makes whole chest expand. "Well, not in so many words, but…"

"I wouldn't mind if you did."

"Really?" God, am I going through puberty again? This squeaking thing is out of control.

As are some other aspects of feeling thirteen…

I adjust myself to a more comfortable position in my pants.

More laughing. "Well, it seems like an accurate enough description."

"Oh. Okay. Cool." I think for a second. The idea that passes through my mind both elates me and makes me fear for my life. "Wait, did you tell your dad I'm your boyfriend?"

"Not in so many words. I would sort of prefer it if he didn't shoot my boyfriend with buckshot, you know?"

"You're not the only one."

"But from the way he was teasing me today, I think he may have more or less figured it out on his own."

I knew that, but it still makes me groan. "Make sure all the guns are unloaded before you have me over for dinner, okay?"

"Will do. Speaking of which, any idea when you're getting back on Sunday?"

"As early as I can."

"Cool. Well, if you want, I'll be here working on that problem set for Goff's class. You're in that class, too, right?"

Did she really not notice me gawking at her from two rows back for the past two months? I keep my voice level as I answer, "Yeah."

"So, if you want to work on it, you could come over. I'd cook for you after."

"That sounds…" Ideal. Perfect. Amazing. "Nice. I'd like that."

"Okay. Great."

"Great."

If we were both actually in the same room, I think we'd be mooning over each other, grinning like idiots with nothing to say.

Finally, I clear my throat and start talking again. "So how was your day?"

She tells me about what she cooked and how things went with Charlie. I ask questions where appropriate and laugh. And it's nice. So nice.

And so hard to remember that back a week ago, I'd never even talked to her before.

Eventually, she winds the conversation back around to me, asking me all about my family. Especially knowing her history, mine seems embarrassingly normal and happy. For all that they drive me crazy, my parents and sister have always been there for me. Always.

I tell her all about them anyway. About how my mom raised us and taught us how to be good people. About how my dad always encouraged me to be a scientist, just like him (even if I chose physics instead of his beloved biology). How the two of them always set an example for what a relationship should be. About how Alice, while a pain in the ass, was my best friend growing up. How, even now that she's a fully-grown pain in the ass, she's a really cool person.

And as I speak, I learn something new about Bella: she's an amazing listener. Even over the phone, I can tell she's really interested.

Hell, she makes me feel _interesting_.

She makes me feel like I'm on the top of the world.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a set of number two pencils.

(start shameless plug) Okay, I _swear_ this never happens. But today's the release date for another original piece of mine. It's a novella-length futuristic romance, and it's my biggest publishing contract to date. I've been working on it since January. Anyway, if you're into that kind of thing, **jeanettegrey . com /blog**. If not, read on. (end shameless plug)

* * *

><p>17<p>

One thing about staying at my parents' house: I never have to set an alarm.

At nine o'clock Friday morning, I'm awoken by the sound of banging at my door. While I'm usually up well before that on weekdays, I was up late on the phone with Bella, and I read for a while after that. When the knocking starts in again, I grunt and rub my eyes, just barely managing to get them open before my sister's barging into my room. To my horror, she's laden down with what appear to be shopping bags.

That's right. I'm not even awake yet, and my sister's already gotten half her Christmas shopping done.

"Alice?" I grumble.

"Rise and shine, brother mine!"

I rise, but I sure as hell don't shine.

"Can I…help you?"

"Nope, but I helped you." She tosses one of the bags at me. Bleary, I reach to catch it and miss by a mile. It lands on the bed.

I fumble for my glasses, getting them on before peering inside. "Um…"

"I figured now that you have a girl in your life, you might actually want to try looking attractive or something."

I would be offended, but remembering my indecision when I was getting ready before the movie, I'm actually sort of grateful. "Oh."

My sister looks at me like I've sprung an extra head. "You're not going to fight me on this? What happened to, 'I look how I look and if people don't like it they can kiss my scrawny white ass'?"

"You're paraphrasing." It's not that far off as quotes go, though.

"Close enough."

"I don't know. Bella seemed to kind of like it when I wore something that actually fit." I shrug as I take a quick inventory of what's inside. Maybe half a dozen shirts, some grey dress pants, and a pair of jeans that look like someone's already worn them. While being attacked by a bear. I frown at them and stuff them back in the bag, then look up at Alice.

She's smiling and shaking her head. "You must really like this girl."

That's the understatement of the year.

I ignore it and wave my hand dismissively. "Maybe I'm just ready to try something new."

"I thought I'd never see the day." She comes closer to the bed and presents her cheek. "You may thank me now."

I roll my eyes but kiss her cheek anyway. "Thank you, Alice."

"You're welcome. You'll have to try on the pants, but I'm pretty sure they'll fit." She heads back toward the door, but turns to look at me before stepping through. "Oh, and PS, Mom's probably going to come up here soon if you don't make an appearance."

"Duly noted."

She shuts the door behind her, and I flop back down on my bed. I consider trying to steal a few more minutes' shut-eye, but I'm basically awake now. After splashing some water on my face, I pull on some normal, non-shredded jeans, but I indulge Alice by grabbing one of the sweaters she bought for me. It's blue and fits kind of the way the shirt Bella liked the other night did. I shrug and wear it downstairs.

When my mom sees me, she almost drops the bowl of pancake batter she's holding.

"You look so handsome!"

If she pinches my cheek before I have coffee we're going to have issues.

"Thanks, Mom."

Fortunately, she doesn't press. Instead, she just gives me a hug and makes me breakfast.

And in that moment, it's pretty damn good to be home.

#

The rest of the weekend both flies and drags by in turkey leftovers, games of chess and Starcraft with my dad, and family outings to see lights and movies.

Oh, and texts with Bella.

Saturday afternoon, I excuse myself from all the hubbub to sit in front of my laptop and try to get some work done. On the drive, I'd had some ideas about my simulations, and I mess around with the code for a while, trying a couple new things. One of them seems promising. Right up until it crashes the whole system.

I growl and restrain myself from chucking the laptop across the room.

In the back of my head, my panic is rising again. With everything that's been going so right with Bella, it's been easy to ignore my research woes, but once I get back to school, it's officially crunch time. I just have one class, but those qualifier exams are a bitch. I have to not only pass a pen-and-paper exam about everything I've learned while I've been a grad student, I also have to do a presentation about my research, demonstrating my progress and my plans for where I think my dissertation is going to go.

Dr. Molina and I have met a half dozen times this semester about it. And every time, he's gotten more and more grim.

All I've ever wanted my entire life has been to be a scientist.

And I'm increasingly terrified that I'm fucked.

Just as I'm starting to really let myself get freaked out, my mom knocks on the door. It's already ajar, but unlike my sister, my mom has some respect for personal boundaries.

That one time back when I was fifteen when she _didn't_ wait for me to say it was okay to come in might have reinforced those boundaries.

I shudder at the memory and tell her it's fine.

She nudges the door open with her hip, and walks in, holding a basket full of all the dirty laundry I brought home with me. "Hey. Just thought I'd drop this off."

"You're the best." She really, really is.

Normally, she'd leave at this point, especially since I'm still hunched over my laptop, but she hesitates, hovering between the closet and the door. Half-frowning, she gestures at the bed. "Can I sit for a minute?"

It's not like I'm making any progress anyway. I shove my laptop aside and sit back against the headboard. "Sure."

She sits on the very edge of the mattress, half-facing me. "I just… I wanted to offer. I mean, I know you'd maybe rather talk to your father, but I know you haven't dated much. And I'm happy that you are. But if there's anything you wanted to talk about. Or any questions you had."

Oh, God.

I remind myself that we had the sex talk about a decade ago and that even my parents aren't masochistic enough to want to go through that again. I go to tell her that I'm cool, but then I notice how she looks just as nervous as I do.

Like she's sitting on something.

"Um, not really," I say. "But, is there… Did you have something you wanted to talk about?"

"Oh, Edward." She reaches out and rubs my ankle. It's one of those nice, reassuring Mom-touches. I know they always make her feel better. They kinda make me feel better too. "This Bella sounds like a lovely girl. But I can't say I'm not concerned."

I swallow hard. "Why?"

"I just…I don't want you to get distracted. You've worked so hard."

That sets off a whole new surge of guilt and bile in my stomach. As if I hadn't been obsessing enough about the possibility of being kicked out of my program. "Mom…"

"No, just hear me out. It's not that I think you shouldn't date while you're in school. Especially considering that at the rate you're going, you're going to be in school until you're almost thirty. Which is fine. I'm so proud of you—"

"Mom." She's rambling. And yeah, Ph.D.'s take a damn long time. We all knew this going into it.

"Right, right." She takes a deep breath and looks me in the eye. "It's just that a girl who's taking care of a disabled parent…that's so much responsibility. I worry about you taking on too much of that responsibility. You're so young…"

The injustice of it all rankles me. "Bella's the same age I am."

"I know, and I know nothing about what she's dealing with is fair. It's just really intense, being involved with someone like that. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

"I sure hope that it's not that I shouldn't date her." That's a non-negotiable.

"No, no, sweetheart. Of course not." She shifts closer on the bed and reaches out to touch my face. "Just…be careful?"

I shake my head and grab her hand, giving it a quick squeeze before letting it go. "Because I've always been such a risk-taker?"

Mom folds her hands back in her lap and smiles at me. It's one of those smiles that looks sad, but I don't think it is. More nostalgic. Like she's remembering something from a long, long time ago. "You've always been very sensible, Edward. But you've also always worn your heart on your sleeve. I'm so proud that you're such a kind, giving young man. But a mother's allowed to worry about that kind of thing, too. Remember back when that Heidi girl was copying all your homework back in tenth grade?"

Just the thought of it makes my stomach roil.

There's a reason I didn't date anyone else the entire time I was in high school. And not just the fact that I was a giant nerd.

"I get it." In a way, I guess I do. Bella's comments back during the movie about not wanting to take advantage of me flash through my mind, though. The fact that she was cognizant of it tells me I'm in good hands. And while I'm a fool for her, I don't think I'm that big of a fool. Not anymore. "I promise I'll be careful, Mom. But if you could meet Bella… I think you'd see. She's not like that."

Mom stares at me for a few seconds, then nods and goes to stand. "I trust your judgment. Thanks for letting me have my mom moment."

She's to the door before I call out, "Thanks."

"For what?"

I'm remembering how Bella's mom abandoned her. As overbearing as she can be…my mom is pretty awesome.

I shrug. "For having the mom moment in the first place."

"As if I could turn it off." She smiles and steps through the door, pulling it closed behind her. Just before it latches, though, she pokes her head back through. "Love you."

"Love you, too, Mom."

As soon as she's gone, I flop onto my back on the bed.

Looks like my research isn't the only thing I have to give some thought to.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a Kermit the Frog doll.

* * *

><p>18<p>

There's a time to think. And sometimes, it's time to do.

Sunday morning, I stay long enough to have brunch with my parents, and then I'm back in my car, a goofy smile on my face and Bella's number queued up on my phone. I call her from a gas station about an hour outside of town to tell her I'm on my way.

I don't even stop at my apartment. I just go straight to her place.

She meets me at the door, opening it before I can knock.

And she looks so, so good.

So good that I can't move for a minute, even though all I want to do is pull her into my arms. To kiss her the way I did the night I left. Only she doesn't make a move toward me either, and I hesitate, raking my gaze back up her body to her eyes. And there's something there that seems…unsure? Distant.

My heart falls.

A gruff voice calls out from inside. "Hey, Edward. You gonna come in or what?"

I look up to find Charlie sitting on the couch, remote in hand, his walker positioned right beside him. I glance around the area furtively. He doesn't _seem_ to have any guns.

"Well?"

"Sorry," I say. Fiddling with the straps on my backpack, I go ahead and step inside. Bella closes the door behind me while I stand there, uncertain what to do or where to go.

"You have a nice Thanksgiving?" Charlie asks me.

"Yeah." Distracted, I keep looking between him and Bella and back again. She makes no motion to sit down, so I just stay where I am. "You?"

"Real good," he says. "Real good. Bella makes a mean turkey dinner."

"Yeah, she told me."

He raises an eyebrow, but it's not at me. "Did she now?"

Bella blushes fifteen shades of red. "Well," she says, moving around and past me. "If that's everything, Dad…"

"Yeah, yeah. I know when I'm not wanted. I'll just be out here, watching the game. You two go…do whatever you need to do."

"Homework, Dad. We're going to work on homework."

This time his skeptical expression is for me. "Uh-huh."

"Ugh." Bella motions toward me to follow her. "Come on. We'll go study in my room."

My ears perk up at that. With my throat tight, I nod at Charlie and then take off after Bella down the hall.

She stops in front of the last door and flashes me a tight smile before opening it and walking in. I enter after her, making it about three steps inside before she closes the door behind us.

Alone in a room together, the air crackles.

I still don't know if she wants me to touch her, but God I want to.

My eyes make a quick sweep of the room, taking in violet walls and glow-in-the-dark stars, a purple and white comforter and a Kermit the frog doll. Then there's a sound of a throat clearing behind me.

And that's the end of my caring what her room looks like.

I turn to find her leaning against the door, tension still clear in her arm, her hand braced against the doorknob. With her lip between her teeth, she looks…nervous.

And it occurs to me we're both nervous. That my posture is just as stiff as hers is.

So I smile. And she smiles, too.

She gestures toward the bed. "You can put your backpack down, or…"

I drop it to the floor. And then, still terrified, I cross the feet between us until I'm standing right in front of her, close enough to touch. And this time, I do.

I have to know.

I reach out, just the simplest of touches, a brush of my fingertips against her wrist. It sends tingles all down my arm. She lets go of the doorknob, her whole body going softer as she looks up at me. Encouraged by the fact that she hasn't rejected me yet, I dare to be even bolder, moving my hand to her waist.

"Hi," I murmur, voice soft.

"Hi."

"I missed you."

The corners of her mouth curl up and she puts her palm on my chest, but it's not to push me away. It's just to touch.

I feel it _everywhere_.

"I missed you, too."

And I can't stand it anymore. Giving her every chance in the world to push me off, I lean in, touch my nose to hers. I swallow and lick my lips.

So carefully, I press my mouth to hers.

She melts. Into me, into the door…

In the next instant her hands are everywhere, one at my waist to pull me closer and one in my hair. I feel her fingernails against my scalp, the heat of her palm. And her _mouth_.

I moan and sink into her, letting my full weight press her into the door as I open to her. It's such a relief and it feels so _good_. When her tongue sweeps over my lip, I lose my mind, pressing forward, tasting and touching, caresses of tongue and the soft sucking of her lip between mine. There's a teasing scrape of teeth on tender flesh, and I'm aching, starved for air and for her.

When it all becomes too much, my body hot and my skin screaming for touch, I tear my mouth from hers and press my face against her hair, gasping for breath and trying not to shove my hard-on against her. My fingers dig hard into her hip. "Jesus, Bella."

She's panting too as she wraps her arms around my back. With her lips and breath so warm against my ear, she whispers, half-laughing, "I thought my dad was never going to let you come back here without a fight."

Delirious, I mumble, "Wouldn't fight a man in a walker. Wouldn't be gentleman-like." I groan as she nibbles at my ear. "Though for you I might make an exception."

"That won't be necessary." With one hand on my neck, she urges me to back up a step, giving us space enough that she can look me in the eye. "I'm so glad you came over."

I reach a tentative hand up and tuck her hair behind her ear. "Are you kidding? I've been dying to see you since Wednesday."

She beams, but then her face gets shy again. "Come on." Taking my hand, she leads me over to the bed, pausing so I can pick up my bag along the way. It's not a huge bed – maybe a double – but it's big enough. We both end up sitting cross-legged in the middle of it, facing each other. Her books and papers are spread out across one of the pillows, and I frown at them.

My gaze darts from the papers to the neckline of her top.

We definitely have work to do.

But I have other things I want to do more.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a CD with all the code I wrote for a particle accelerator detection program I worked on over a decade ago.

String Theory is up for Fic of the Week over at Teh Lemonade Stand. Please consider taking a moment to vote: **http:/ tehlemonadestand . blogspot . com**

* * *

><p><strong>CP Violation:<strong> CP symmetry is the theory that states that the laws of physics should apply in exactly the same way if a particle is replaced with its antiparticle (C symmetry) and if left and right are swapped (P symmetry). This is conceptually kind of like looking in a mirror, and saying everything is the same for mirror-you, so long as you remember to switch left and right. This doesn't always hold true, though; particle decays where it does not hold true are said to exhibit "CP Violation." Considered to be a key factor in the evolution of a universe that is made up of mostly matter and relatively little antimatter.

Physics. It's not just a theory. It's a law. That gets broken. A lot.

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><p>19<p>

We end up doing work, regardless.

After a little bit of awkward shuffling, she dropped her eyes from mine and reached for her textbook, already talking about CP violations and integrals. I just stared at her for a minute, trying to figure out how she could go from the kind of kiss we shared against the door to this so quickly when I was still catching my breath.

She backed up to put some distance between us, then glanced from me to her problem set and back again.

"Sorry," she said. "I'm just really worried about getting this all done today."

_Her terms. You promised to do this on her terms._

I gave a tight smile and grabbed my bag. "Okay."

Two hours later, she's lying sprawled out on her stomach at the foot of the bed, propped up on her elbows and working furiously on a set of calculations. I'm sitting up against her headboard with my notebook on my lap, uncertain if I've ever seen anything sexier.

We aren't talking. But our ankles are touching. It's something.

I'm on the next to last problem when she puts her pencil down and sits up, turning to me triumphantly.

"Done!"

"Already?"

She shrugs and closes her book. "I looked them over quick before you got here." Glancing at my notebook, she asks, "How about you?"

"One more to go."

"Do you want help?"

Do I? On some level, of course. We've been checking in with each other all afternoon, giving pointers and discussing approaches to the math. She even showed me a cool trick on one of the problems, and I helped her spot a mistake in her arithmetic.

On another level, I'm embarrassed to be working so slow.

I close my book and shake my head. "Nah, I'll just finish it up when I get home. I think I've more or less got it."

When I say the word 'home' she frowns. "Oh. Then did you want me to start on dinner, or…"

It's not even five o'clock.

"Actually…"

"Yeah?"

"I have another idea." Heart pounding, I shove my books to the side and lunge for her, playfully pinning her down and hovering over her.

She shrieks, but she's still smiling. Seems like a good sign to me.

Giggling, she reaches up to touch my hair. "And what kind of idea would that be?"

I could explain, but I'd rather show her.

"This kind."

When my lips meet hers, there's no resistance, no hesitance in the way she accepts me – just warm lips and softness, the wet heat of her mouth. I sink lower against her and dart my tongue out, swallowing the quiet groan that wants to escape when she grants me entry. Her hand comes up to rest on the back of my neck, holding me close.

When her tongue strokes mine, my arms buckle.

And while we've kissed before, this time it's different. She's relaxed and supple and warm. There's no trip home I have to make. No work looming.

Just us. Kissing.

And it's glorious.

It's even more so when she brings her hand up between us, pressing on my chest and rolling with me as she shifts us to our sides. And she's so _close_. So –

"Mmm," she hums, burying her hand in my hair and tugging on my waist. Somehow, my leg slips between hers, her breasts flush against my chest and her tongue deep. My hips meet hers, my eyes rolling back in my head at the _feel_ of warm girl against me.

_All_ of me.

I freeze. But Bella…Bella moans.

And I'm lost.

Time becomes a liquid, moving thing, minutes and seconds and hours flowing in a dance of deepening kisses, my quickening pulse and the fight for air. It's a torturous, perfect exercise in pleasure and restraint. I kiss and touch and try to keep my hips still when every instinct says to thrust. Try to keep my hands to places that are safe.

Try to work up the courage to take my hands to places that are anything but.

With the back of my neck prickling, my mind screaming, I swallow hard and curl my palm around her ribs. I close my eyes.

_Soft._ So soft.

I stroke my thumb along the curve beneath her breast, and Bella moans against my breath.

"Yes."

_Oh, God_.

I tilt my head and probe her mouth, and with the most tentative movements, brush my fingertips across the smooth curve. She pushes into my hand.

And when I cup her, feel that perfect fullness in my palm, I can't help it. My hips jerk forward, my mind blank with the pleasure of that pressure _so much pressure_.

"Bella," I groan.

She doesn't push me off.

She hooks a leg around my waist, pulls me closer, fits me to her and I _know_ where I am. She moans and I'm gone, and then it's just rocking, her breast in my hand and her fingers in my hair, my hips to hers, and I'm… I'm…

"_Bella_."

"God, Edward."

And I think I could come. I know I could.

Only I never get to.

Somewhere in the house, something crashes.

And in an instant, reality comes crashing down, too.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a picture of my grandma in a wheelchair.

String Theory is still up for Fic of the Week over at Teh Lemonade Stand. Please consider taking a moment to vote: **http:/ tehlemonadestand . blogspot . com**

* * *

><p>20<p>

For a second, we both lie there, frozen, Bella's eyes wide.

"Bella!"

At the sound of Charlie's voice, bellowing through the house, she's suddenly in motion while I'm still shocked, just inches from the edge of something.

"Shit, shit, shit." She scrambles off the bed, hand raking through her hair as she tears toward the door. She rips it open before turning back to me. Her face is deathly pale. "I'm sorry."

I wave her off as I roll to my back and close my eyes. "It's fine." Still, she hesitates. "Seriously. It's fine. Go. I'll be there in a second."

She doesn't hesitate any more.

Alone in her bed and in her room, I rub my eyes and try to figure out what the hell just happened. We went from zero to sixty so fast, and then everything…stopped. And sure, I knew what I was getting myself into, but still.

Just.

Fuck.

I finally drag myself up to sit on the edge of the mattress, where I take a few more calming breaths before rising to stand. Still a little dizzy, I reach my hand into my pants to tuck my now-painful erection into as comfortable of a position as it's going to get. Tug my shirt down.

Out in the hall, I follow the low sounds of Bella and Charlie's voices out to the kitchen, but as soon as I turn the corner, I stop short.

As disappointed as I had been deep down just a second ago, the scene in front of me makes me feel like a monster for having even harbored such a thought. To have been so selfish.

It tears at my heart.

There on the floor, surrounded by what must be at least two broken beer bottles and an overturned carton of milk, Charlie is lying on his side, Bella hovering over him.

"I'm sorry, Bells," he wheezes. "Shit, I'm so sorry."

"It's fine, Dad. Are you sure you're okay? Nothing's broken, or—"

"I'm fine. You guys were having your little date, and then I—"

My eyes meet his for the briefest second. The pain there is so much more than physical. I have to look away.

I glance all over the room as they keep talking in quiet tones. Bella's voice is so exhausted, Charlie's so guilty and agonized. I don't belong here.

But I'm here.

Not wanting to intrude, I ask quietly, "Where's his chair?"

Bella's head whips around, and she looks up at me with panic in her eyes. There's shame and gratitude there, too. "His room, probably. The door across from mine."

I nod and turn away. I hardly see anything as I go, just intent on doing this for her. For them.

By the time I get back, rolling Charlie's chair in front of me, she's gotten him up to sitting, and they've moved from concern and guilt to recrimination.

"I don't know why you couldn't just wait. Or ask."

"A man should be able to get a beer for himself in his own damn house."

"You shouldn't even be having beer. If Billy hadn't brought them over—"

"Well, then I might as well be dead." His tone is quiet, but it cuts like sharpened steel. Now I really know I shouldn't be here. Charlie lowers his voice, but his words hurt just as much. "Sometimes I wish I were. And I know you do, too."

Bella's jaw drops open, her whole body freezing for a second before she's back in motion, wrapping herself around him, speaking fiercely, "Never, Daddy. Never."

"I'm so sorry, baby." He clings to her just as tightly.

For a minute, they hold onto each other, there on that floor.

Part of me wants to leave the chair and slip out the back, to leave them to their moment. But that seems like the coward's way out. I'm sure they've been in this position before – that Bella can handle it on her own. But she doesn't have to. Not anymore.

Resolving to be strong for her, I wait until they've quieted before clearing my throat. "Here," is all I say.

Bella sniffles and wipes her cheeks, nodding to me without making eye contact. Charlie doesn't even lift his face.

Together, Bella and I get him up and into his chair. She says a quiet thanks, then rolls him away. I touch her wrist as she goes, but I don't make any move to follow her. Instead, I go to the roll of paper towels on the counter and tug. I unroll and unroll and unroll.

When I've got more toweling wadded up in my hand than I know what to do with, I tear it off and crouch over by the still-open fridge door, finding just enough presence of mind to close it before I start trying to soak up all the mess. I gather up shards of glass and set the milk carton upright, toss everything in the trash. And then I go back for more.

By the time Bella slinks back into the room, arms crossed over her chest, I've got the mop out and I'm going over the sticky tile.

"You didn't have to do that."

"I know." I keep my eyes on the floor. "Is he okay?"

"His pride's more wounded than he is."

I nod and keep mopping. While my back is turned, Bella moves over to the sink, but she doesn't turn the water on.

Then I hear the faintest, shuddering breath.

I drop the mop.

"Bella?"

She's standing there, arms braced against the counter, eyes down, just shaking her head. I take a tentative step toward her, watching as her whole torso shakes. It makes my heart ache.

Her voice breaking, she cracks out, "You sure you want to get messed up with all this?"

Oh, hell no. We're not going there.

In the instant it takes me to cross the kitchen to her, I hear my mother's warning. Her plea for me to use some caution.

It seems nonsensical now.

"Oh, Bella," I breathe. I put my chest to her spine and rub my hands up and down her arms, silently begging her to take some strength from me. "Bella, of course I do."

Her quiet laugh is really a sob. "I can't do anything normal."

"You take care of your dad."

"You deserve—"

I can't even listen to this. "I want _you_."

It's too much. Entirely too much. But I can't even bring myself to regret it.

Instead of tensing or pulling away like I half-expect her to, she finally lets go, sagging back against me. I don't hesitate to wrap my arms around her and pull her in close. So close. In the next instant, she turns inside my embrace and buries her face against my chest. Her arms come up around my waist, and we just hold each other. She cries and I kiss her hair, murmuring random words about how it's all going to be okay.

Somehow, someway, it's got to be.

I lose track of time as I stand there with her, but eventually she calms herself down. With a few shuddering, sniffling breaths, she makes herself steady and pulls back enough to look at me.

And then she says the last words I ever could have expected.

"Are you real?"

And I smile.

Because all week long, every time she's touched me, I've been asking myself very same thing.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a chess set where all the pieces are shot glasses.

Thank you all SO much for voting. String Theory was selected as a Lemonade Stand Fic of the Week!

In other news, yesterday when I wasn't updating, I got bored and made a banner: http:/ bit . ly/s9GTVy

* * *

><p><strong>High Energy Physics:<strong> The branch of physics that studies the nature of the fundamental particles that make up atoms, including protons and neutrons (which can be further broken down into quarks) and electrons, neutrinos, tau particles, muons, (maybe) Higgs bosons, etc, etc.

Generally referred to as high energy physics at least in part because in order to see what these particles do, physicists rev them up to ridiculously high speeds (and therefore high energies), then smash them into each other and look at the results. Kinda like figuring out what's in a shepherd's pie by throwing it at the wall and watching what streaks down.

Which I do not recommend.

* * *

><p>21<p>

"You're sure I can't help you with anything?"

Bella's standing at the counter, chopping vegetables for a chicken stir-fry. I'm practically salivating. This'll make four whole days of real meals in a row; between her and my mother, I'm getting spoiled.

Her hair's tied back away from her face, and all I want to do is touch that, long, bare, graceful line of her neck.

"Nah," she says, shaking her head. "I can do _some_ things by myself."

It's an innocent enough comment, on its surface, but I can hear the layers underneath.

"There's nothing wrong with asking for some help."

"Sure." She smirks. "Says the guy who's 'pretty much got it' on his problem set."

"Hey. That's different."

"If you say so."

Okay, so maybe we're both a little annoyingly independent.

Since she won't let me do anything, I poke around the kitchen, eventually heading over to the fridge. I kind of want to ask Charlie if I can have one of his beers, but something tells me that wouldn't go over so well. I make a mental note to ask Bella later just exactly how bad they are for him, and maybe to sneak him a six-pack the next time I come over.

As I'm thinking about him, I glance over into the living room. He's still sitting there in his chair, glaring at the floor. Bella's asked him about fifteen times if he's okay or if he needs anything. His answers have gotten surlier every time.

I glance back at Bella to find her humming along, knife making quick work of…some green thing I don't recognize. Figuring I don't really have anything better to do, I wander into the living room. Charlie doesn't react.

My first instinct is to start conversation the way Bella's been doing, by asking if he's all right. I'm pretty sure that would have him reaching for his rifle again, though. I could offer to turn on the TV or something, but I doubt we're into the same shows. Dr. Who and anime aren't exactly high on most people's lists.

Eventually, my gaze lands on a stack of games on one of their shelves. I'm this close to asking if he likes to play cards, but I stop myself just in time. With his bad hand, could he even hold them? His pride's already wounded enough. I don't even want to ask.

Then I see it. "Do you play chess?"

He doesn't respond for a second, so I turn around to look at him. His gaze is dull as he looks up at me. "Huh?"

"You have a chess set. Do you like to play?"

Giving me a one-shouldered shrug, he grunts. "It's okay."

Okaaaaaay. "Well, if you're bored. Bella pretty much kicked me out of the kitchen."

Bella's voice drifts in from the next room. "I did no such thing."

At that, Charlie chuckles. It's a relief to hear. "Girl's pretty headstrong."

"Tell me about it." I can't help the smile on my face. I turn back to look for other games that could be played with one hand, but to my surprise, Charlie speaks up again.

"Doubt I could keep up with you anyway."

"Hmm?"

"Chess. I don't play fancy or anything. You'd probably mop the floor with me."

He's got a point. Considering my dad's obsession, I've been playing since I was five. It'd be hard not to play to win.

"My dad and I used to play a lot," I concede.

Then he surprises me with an offer of his own. "Checkers is more my speed."

I look over at him to gauge his expression. It's entirely open, and a hell of a lot less despondent than it was before.

"I can play checkers."

With a nod, he rolls over toward the table where I first saw him cleaning his gun. Tonight, it's set for dinner for three. And for checkers, apparently.

I grab the game off the shelf and go to join him, thinking first to ask, "Hey, Bella, we have time for a game or two?"

It feels like I'm ten and playing with Alice, asking my mom if it's okay.

"Yeah, so long as it's a quick one."

"It's checkers," Charlie says with a huff. "It's always quick."

Charlie steers himself in to the open side of the table. I take the chair across from him and start setting up the board. To the sounds of Bella cooking, we begin to play.

"So," he says after a few moves. "What do you do at that school of yours? The same kind of stuff Bells does?"

Ah. The 'so what do you do' talk. "Yes and no. I take a lot of the same classes and all, but I work for a different professor. My group's more high energy physics."

"Which means?"

"Subatomic particles. Most of my stuff is simulations, but if things work out, I might get to do some work at the Large Hadron Collider. The one they just set up in Switzerland?"

_If I pass my qualifier._

"Sounds…interesting." He's humoring me, but that's okay. Considering he lives with Bella, he must know how passionate a person can be about this kind of thing.

"It is to me."

"Any idea what you want to do with it? What's Bella always going on about? Industry or academia or…"

"I'd like a professor job, I think. It's always what I've seen myself doing."

He hums and goes to pick up one of his pieces. "Sounds like Bells."

"She'd make a great professor." She really would. In addition to being brilliant, she cares about people.

Charlie goes quiet for a second, and when I look up, it's to find him staring right at me, his expression unreadable. "Yeah. Yeah, she would." Then he looks back down at the board and smiles. Grabbing his piece decisively, he triple-jumps me and sits back with a look of triumph on his face. "King me."

Whatever weird moment we'd been having breaks. I shake my head and chuckle as I reach for an extra of his pieces. Stacking them, I say, simply, "Yes, sir."

#

Dinner goes surprisingly well. As predicted, Bella's cooking is amazing, and being there with the two of them is just plain fun. It makes me miss my family less.

Bella teases her dad and her dad teases her. They both tease me, but neither of them do it meanly. I think Charlie might even like me. And I'm pretty damn sure at this point that Bella does.

Afterward, I help Bella clean up everything. Miraculously, she even lets me. When we're almost done, Charlie says his goodbyes and rolls off toward his room. I frown because it's early, but Bella's blushing. It's then that I realize he's trying to give us some privacy.

I could kiss him for it.

But instead, I kiss her.

With her hands wet with dishwater, I wrap my arms around her and urge her lips up to mine. We kiss gently, softly. Against her lips, I tell her, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For having me over tonight."

"I'm pretty sure I should be thanking you."

If we both think that, we must be doing something right.

I let my mouth linger against hers for a little longer, then pull back, touching my forehead to hers. "I should probably go."

God, but I don't want to.

She sighs, then nods. "Okay."

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Definitely. Meet you for coffee?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

She pauses for a second, then flashes a soft, secret smile. "You still want me to pick you up at your office?"

"Of course." I frown. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know. Your officemates seemed to give you a hard enough time as it is."

Chuckling, I pull her in even closer. "Then I say we give them something to really talk about."

"Yeah?" Her lips curl higher, her smile brighter. She _wants_ to be seen with me.

"Absolutely."

I give her one last peck, then pull away, grinning.

In a way I haven't been in ages, I'm excited about getting to go to school tomorrow.


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a girly pink coffee mug with a skull on it (miss you, Windy!).

For a Christmas present, eddiebell69 made this story the most awesome banner. You have GOT to see it: http:/ bit . ly/sP6lFZ

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><p>22<p>

It's been one week to the day since Bella first came to pick me up for our coffee break, but in that time, so much has changed.

At ten o'clock exactly, she shows up at the door to my office. She's insanely beautiful, just like always, but somehow even more so. She's even more beautiful because she came here for _me._

With her posture so much more relaxed than it was the first time, she leans herself up against the door. "Hey, guys."

I like that she seems certain now. That she knows who we are.

I don't hesitate this time either. All smiles, I rise to meet her, just as Jasper turns around in his chair. "Well, hello there, pretty lady," he says, all smarm and charm.

"Hi, Jasper." She addresses him, but she only has eyes for me. "Hi, Edward."

"Hey, beautiful." I intertwine our fingers right away and kiss her cheek.

Jasper looks like his eyes are about to bug out of his head. "Holy shit, did you guys finally hook up?"

Just the idea makes me entirely too excited, but I keep my calm and roll my eyes. "A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell."

"Gentleman my ass."

"Sorry, Jasper." I tug Bella with me, away from the door. "Nice as your ass may be, I don't swing that way."

We leave him sputtering behind us. I feel powerful and happy, like there's nothing I can't do with Bella beside me. She bursts into giggles halfway down the hall. "You are so bad."

I'm not. And I never will be. But that's okay. She seems to like me anyway.

When we get to the break room, I sweep it with my eyes twice before pulling her inside and pressing her against the wall. The only words I get out are, "Good morning," before I capture her lips with mine, kissing her with all the excitement and optimism and adoration I have for her.

She winds her arms around my neck and gives as good as she gets. After a few minutes, she pulls back, though, giving me one last, firm peck before smiling up at me. "Good morning yourself."

It is. It really really is. "I'm just happy to see you."

"I'm happy to see you, too."

I'm clearly competing with the coffee maker for her attention, though. She squeezes me tight and then extricates herself to head over to the counter where she fixes two cups, pouring half and half into both and then handing one to me. With her first sip, her eyes roll back in her head and her eyelashes flutter.

I shake my head at her. "This can't be your first cup of the day."

"No. God, can you imagine me hitting the roads before I had any?"

"Sounds like you'd be a public menace."

"Absolutely. I usually have breakfast with my dad, but it was _ages_ ago. I needed another fix."

Mental note: if Bella ever comes to my place for a sleepover, make sure to buy coffee.

Emboldened by that thought, unlikely as it is, considering, I tap her foot with mine. "So when can I see you again?"

She gives me a coy look over her coffee mug. "You're seeing me right now."

"You know what I mean."

I mean more than a kiss up against the break room wall.

She frowns. I don't like it when she frowns. Blowing on her coffee, keeping half her face hidden by the mug, she directs her gaze to the wall. "I don't know. I mean, I'm really busy this week."

"So am I. We could just…study again."

We've established a precedent. Two hours of work for half an hour of making out on her bed. I can live with that.

Her expression is skeptical. "How much studying do you think we'd get done?"

"I don't know." I shrug, but inside I'm anything but nonchalant. Lowering my voice, I remind her, "I gave you a couple hours before I attacked you last time."

Her face flushes pink. "Who says you'd be the one doing the attacking?"

My eyes widen, and I'm glad I'm wearing my normal clothes. They're much better at hiding an insta-boner than the ones Alice bought for me.

Mouth dry, I stare at her. I can't talk. Or think.

Except about her. About how she made me feel, pressed up against me, pulling me closer, so tight against my—

"Earth to Edward?" She's waving her hand in front of my face and grinning.

"I'm here." I blink hard and refocus. "So can I come over? Tonight?"

_Or now? How does now work?_

Shaking her head at me, she shifts her coffee to her other hand, then runs her fingertips along my side. "I don't think so. But soon, okay? I'm trying to juggle things, you know? Make it all fit?"

Balance. It's what my mom was talking about. It was what I promised Bella the night we sat together, staring at the stars. "Okay," I concede eventually. "But don't think I'm happy about it."

She consoles me with a tiny kiss against the corner of my mouth. "Thanks for being so patient with me."

"No problem."

I'd wait for her. Forever.

I just hope that I won't have to.

#

The next few days go by more or less the same.

Every morning, she picks me up for coffee. Every morning, I kiss her up against the wall of the break room. And every morning, I get a little more desperate for more of her.

At night, I make myself come to images of her.

By day, I stare at her.

But every time I ask to see her, to spend more time with her, she demurs. It's always work or her dad. Her dad or work.

I try not to be hurt.

Finally, on Thursday, when she turns me down, I have to turn away to keep my frustration from showing. I fix our coffees with gritted teeth, reminding myself over and over that I promised to do this on her terms. Her terms.

Her terms.

She doesn't say anything. Just holds my hand and drinks.

On Friday, I'm feeling heavier than I have since the first time she talked to me. When she comes to pick me up, I give her a sad, forced smile, already feeling like this thing is going to be over before it's begun.

And I want it to begin. I want _everything_.

Instead of kissing her, I head straight to the coffee maker and pour two cups, uncertain what to say but knowing I'll have to soon. Uncertain how to tell her what _I_ need when I promised to focus on her.

"Edward…" She touches my sleeve, asking me to look at her.

Angry and disappointed as I am, when _she_ touches _me_…it does something to me.

I turn toward her with a sigh. "Bella…"

Her face is so earnest, so open. So impossible to be angry with.

Especially when the next words out of her mouth are, "So what are you doing tomorrow night?"

I raise one eyebrow at her. Working, masturbating, and maybe watching Avatar probably aren't the answers she's expecting from me.

"Nothing in particular."

She steps in closer, ignoring the way my body has tensed, my defenses up. With one hand on each side of my waist, she looks up at me and smiles. "Well…what would you say if I told you I got a nurse to agree to do an overnight shift?"

My brain stops.

"An…" I have to swallow a couple times to get my mouth to form the words. "An _overnight_ shift?"

She can't mean… Could she?

"Uh-huh."

If it's a joke, it's entirely too cruel. Bella isn't cruel. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah." She loops one of her hands with mine and swings them both. Every time she's turned me down, she's been closed off. Tense. Now she's soft and beautiful and carefree.

Still. A man can't live on hope alone. I clarify, "And you want to spend your night off with _me_?"

"Well, I was kind of hoping to." She smirks. "Unless you think Jasper or someone might be interested…"

I'd kill the fucker. "Bella, please don't joke with me."

Her face instantly goes serious. Destroying my ability to breathe, she rises up onto her tip-toes and drags her lips along my cheek toward my ear. I shudder when she nips at me.

"Edward Cullen?"

"Yes?" My voice is shaky. Breathy. I put my hands on her round, soft hips.

So quietly, she asks, "Would you like to go on a date with me?"

.

.

.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** For the record, he obviously means Avatar: the Last Airbender, an anime show that I've admittedly never seen, but which my husband lost about 3 days straight to last summer. He does **not** mean the Avatar with those silly blue people.


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a ten-pound bag of basmati rice.

* * *

><p>23<p>

"Do you know what you're getting?"

My eyes take one last sweep of the menu before going back to their preferred occupation. Namely, staring at Bella's chest. "Yeah," I say distractedly as I set my menu down. Through sheer force of will, I make myself look at her face. "Chicken Makhani, I think."

She nods. "Good choice."

As she scans her menu again, I take a second to appreciate everything that's happening, here in this room. I'm sitting across from the smartest, most beautiful girl in the world, at a nice (but not _too_ nice) restaurant. She's got her hair done up and she's wearing a dress. I'm in an outfit that's been Alice-approved.

I'm on a date.

With Bella.

_Without_ her dad.

And she doesn't have to go home tonight.

The back of my neck starts to sweat. At just that moment, of course, the waiter comes over and nods at us both. Bella hums in indecision for another second, then selects the Navratan Korma. When she hands the menu to the waiter, I can't help but notice that it improves my view.

"And for you, Sir?"

Somehow, I manage not to tell him, "Boobs."

I snap my eyes up. "Chicken Makhani, please. And an order of regular naan."

"Certainly."

I unconsciously do up a mental tally of our bill. It's a lot more than my typical Saturday night, but it's fine. Especially with Christmas money coming soon.

And it's nothing like what Bella must be forking over to make this whole thing possible.

Once the waiter's gone, she relaxes back in her seat, smiling and looking around. She told me before that she and Charlie don't get out much. She deserves this.

But I still can't help but ask.

"Bella?"

"Hmm?" She refocuses on me and props her elbows on the table.

She doesn't even know what she's doing. How that makes her chest look…

_Focus._

"So, this is kind of awkward, and you don't have to answer."

She tilts her head to the side. "Okaaaay…"

"Home nursing care. That's, like, really expensive, isn't it?" Sighing, she nods. Her posture slumps a bit, and I feel like a dick. "You really don't have to talk about it if you don't want. I'm just curious."

"Yeah," she admits after a second. "It's a lot. But during the day it's just check-ins and help getting him to his therapists' appointments and all. Dad's on his own a lot. It's not so awful."

"And an overnight?"

"It's fine. Really."

"But how do you…? Our stipends barely cover rent as it is."

She shrugs. "Dad and I own the house outright, so there isn't any rent. And he put in thirty years on the force. He has a pension, and there's his disability insurance. We do all right."

It's shocking how much of a load that takes off my mind.

"Okay." I hesitate for a few seconds. Because really, I'm skirting all around the issue. Sure, I've been concerned about how she does it all. But there's more.

There's my disappointment from this entire week.

"Just…" I start again. It's hard to force the words out. Wanting reassurance that she really wants to be here, with me, I stretch my hand out across the table, silently asking her to touch me. To my relief, she accepts, placing cool, soft fingers into my palm. I close my hand around them and instantly feel better. Staring at my thumb against her skin, I take a deep breath. "Just, I don't want you to have to get a nurse every time, just so we can spend time together. This week… I know we're both busy and I don't expect to see you every day or even every other day or anything. But…"

How do I say this? How do I tell her how much I missed her and wanted to be close to her?

I just wanted to _see _her. To have some hope that she'd find time for me again.

Her words, when they come, are slow and careful, but there's fire burning behind them. "I know. I just…" She trails off, and it takes all my patience to wait. Not to force her or to trivialize this. "I…" She pulls her hand back and clasps the both of them in front of her, one nail picking at the other. "I don't know how to do this."

"Neither do I."

She finally meets my eyes. "What we did on Sunday? After we were done studying?"

Images assault me, memories of the feeling of her body beneath mine, and my mouth goes dry. "Yeah?"

"I liked it. I liked it a lot."

"Me, too." There's something warm and wonderful inside me. Some untapped place of sexuality. Of affection I haven't been able to give to anyone. I want to give it all to her.

"It felt so good to just…give in like that. To feel like I was _someone_. To take something for myself and feel beautiful. And…wanted."

God, I want her. I want her so much.

"Bella…"

"It felt so good to _forget_. To not have to be someone's caretaker or be worrying about school or anything. To just _be_ with you." A shadow passes over her eyes. "And then my dad fell. And it felt like the world was reminding me I'm not free. And if you come over, I'm going to want all that again, and I'm not going to be able to have it."

I don't know what she's telling me.

"So this week," she says, talking fast, like she needs to get this out. "Tonight. I wanted to…escape. Just forget about my life. You know? Live. For just one night."

She's breaking my heart. "Bella." I hold out both my hands this time. She looks at them uncertainly, and I ask, "Please?" Tentatively, she places her fingertips against mine. "I get it," I say slowly. "I love that you want that escape…with me. I've been looking forward to this so much. Getting to go out with you, _be_ with you. It means so much to me."

"Me, too."

"And I can't lie. Fooling around with your dad in the house it was…" I think about his promise to shoot me if I was still there in the morning. "Weird. Maybe a little scary."

She laughs at that, but it's weak.

I rub the backs of her hands. Holding her gaze, I tell her honestly, "I'm happy to be your escape. I want to be. I want to be here for you, however you need me. But here's the thing…" I swallow hard but force myself to keep going. "Your life. You say you want to get away from it. But, me… Bella, I just want to be a part of it."


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a box of Indian leftovers from the other night. (Thankfully, hubby indulges me when I tell him I need to eat whatever kind of food I just had my characters partaking of...)

* * *

><p>24<p>

Sitting there, staring at me, Bella's eyes get glassy, and inside I'm panicking. So many times I've given her too much insight into my adoration. I'm still waiting for her to realize… For her to run.

"Really?"

My heart lifts. "Really." Squeezing her hands, I tell her, "The good and the bad. The hard and the easy. And, this might sound weird, but I really like your dad. I liked having dinner with both of you. It felt like being home with my family."

She scoffs. "Except your family's perfect."

"And yours is too. In its own way."

Gazing at me unwaveringly, she opens her mouth and closes it, then finally says, "You really believe that."

"I do."

Her fingertips start making little circles on my palm, and she bites her lip, looking down. "I'll try. But it isn't going to be easy."

It's so cheesy. But I say it anyway. "Nothing worth it ever is."

The waiter shows up again then and begins setting plates down in front of us. Between the two little copper bowls full of curry and the rice and bread, it takes up the whole table, and reluctantly, I let go of her hands. When the waiter asks if everything looks okay, I assure him that it does. It looks great. But it's not really my focus.

Quiet now, Bella goes to serve herself, and for a minute neither of us says anything. But as I'm spooning the chicken onto my rice, her voice rings out, soft and beautiful. "You are, you know?"

"What?"

Her eyes meet mine.

"Worth it."

#

The air seems to clear after that. We both relax. I, for one, feel so much more secure. We make idle small talk about the department and our professors, but by silent, mutual agreement, we don't talk about Charlie anymore.

"So are you ready for qualifiers?"

I groan and cram some naan into my mouth. After chewing, I answer noncommittally. "I better be."

"That doesn't sound like a yes. It's just a few weeks away."

"Don't remind me."

Would she still date a Ph.D. dropout? As if I didn't have enough to worry about.

She frowns. "Which part's bugging you? The theory test is going to be a bitch, but you seem pretty good at that stuff."

"Nah. I'll be fine on that, assuming I fit some studying in."

"Then what? The presentation?"

It's supposed to be a twenty-minute talk about what we've done so far and about where our research is going. I wonder if I could just show them a picture of a toilet.

"I guess it just needs some work."

"Oh, I haven't even started writing mine, yet. You have plenty of time."

I consider just letting her think it's the talk itself that's bugging me, but that seems dishonest. "No," I say carefully. "More…I've hit some snags with my project."

If you count the edge of a cliff as a snag.

"Hmm. Well, that's not necessarily a problem. So long as you have some results."

My stomach is turning, and it's not a problem with the chicken makhani. "You're probably right."

She didn't want to talk about her dad. I don't want to talk about this.

I change the subject less than gracefully. She lets me. But something tells me she isn't going to forget it, either.

#

When we're done with dinner, I steal the bill out from under her nose, insisting on paying over her protests. It's not until I remind her that she made dinner for me on Sunday that she relents and lets it go.

Afterward, I help her with her coat, then hold my hand out. She takes it, and I walk out feeling like the luckiest man in the world. Alone with her inside my car, I let the engine warm up for a minute, thumb tapping on the steering wheel and wondering.

"So…" I say.

"So?"

"We could go see a movie?"

"Two movies in two weeks?" She puts on a shocked face. "I don't know if I can handle that much excitement."

I can't tell if she's joking or not. Either way, it gives me courage. "Or we could go back to my place." I remember myself in time to insert the caveat. "Unless you just want to go home, or—"

"Edward."

I look over at her with a wince. But there's no reason for it. She's smiling broadly, and she reaches over to take my head in both her hands.

"Edward. Would I have gotten an overnight nurse if I planned to go home at nine o'clock?"

"I just didn't—"

Her mouth is hot on mine, a delicious contrast to the cold night air. I find her neck with my hand, pull her closer and dart my tongue out.

_Spicy._

She kisses her way to my ear, scraping teeth along my jaw and making me so, so hard.

By the time we actually do anything – _if_ we actually do anything – I don't know how I'm going to keep it together.

She sucks for a second on my neck, then pulls away, shifting back into her seat. Shooting me the broadest grin, she says, "Come on. Unless you want me to jump you in a parking lot…"

I've thought of worse ideas.

I shake it off and force a laugh. Just to be sure, though, as I throw the car into gear, I ask, "My place?"

She looks so happy.

Nodding and gazing out the windshield, she agrees, "Your place."


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own Firefly on DVD.

* * *

><p>25<p>

"So, this is me." I unlock the door and step aside, holding it open so that she can walk through first.

I won't pretend I didn't hope this might happen, so the place it pretty clean. But I'm still a guy, and a grad student at that; it's an apartment, not a home. In the front room, there's my parents' old couch and a TV. Lots and lots of books and video games and movies. A collectible or two.

I close the door behind us and watch her are she looks around. "This is the, um, living room. Kitchen's over there." I point toward the back, and my voice cracks. "My bedroom. Um, and the bathroom."

"Cool." Her voice is distracted, and I know she's sizing it all up.

Feeling ridiculously nervous, I find a reason to excuse myself. Gesturing toward the bathroom, I mumble, "I'll be just…"

I make my escape and leave her to her looking. Goodness knows I did the same thing at her house. Anyway, it's not as if I left out anything too incriminating for her to find.

Thank God these days all the porn is online.

I do what I need to and wash my hands, checking myself out in the mirror as I do. Nothing about my appearance has changed, and yet I look…different. Taller. I shrug and dry my hands and slip back outside.

And seeing her there – seeing her _here_ … It seems too good to be true.

She has her back to me, her hand out, finger tracing the shelf where I keep my Blu-Rays and DVDs. When I clear my throat, she jumps and spins around.

"Hey."

"Hi. I was just…" She waves her hand at the shelf.

"Yeah, it's cool. Did you want to watch something?"

A movie could be good. She could sit on the couch next to me. With the lights out. And I could…

"Actually…" She turns back to the shelf and picks out my copy of Serenity. "I loved Firefly, but I never got around to seeing this."

Shit. I would actually want her to pay attention to that one.

I force a smile and reach for it. "Great choice."

Damn her and her good taste.

It's not all bad, though. Much to plan, I queue up the movie and turn off all the lights except a dim one in the kitchen. When I get back to her, she's already sitting in the middle of the couch. And I silently thank her. Saves me the trouble of working up the courage to sit close to her. Grabbing the remote, I settle in beside her and hold my arm out. She doesn't hesitate to curl into me, her head against my shoulder. And she's so warm. So beautiful.

The next two hours are the best torture I've ever endured. The movie is awesome, and I could watch it over and over again. But I've seen it enough times that I have enough attention left over to properly appreciate what I have in my arms. I keep my arm around her shoulders, occasionally sliding my fingers through her hair or rubbing her neck. At some point in the movie, she reaches for my other hand and intertwines them on my lap.

And it's…perfect.

Perfect except for the situation _elsewhere_ in my lap.

When the movie ends, we both sit there, staring at the credits. My nerves are rising again, unsure about what she wants to do now. I don't want to break this easy intimacy. I don't want to let go of her.

But I want her closer. More.

Swallowing drily, I reach for the remote and hit the mute button, so we're left alone in the room. Just the soft glow of the TV and the glow of her proximity. I rub her arm, and it's a sign. It breaks the spell.

She pulls away from me and reaches her arms up overhead, yawning.

She's probably tired. Shit.

"Um," I start, but I don't know what to say.

"So."

"It's, um, late."

"Yeah." She turns toward me, shifting to place one knee up on the couch between us. One hand on my thigh.

I run my fingertips along the back of her palm and stroke her thumb with my own.

I don't want her to go.

"So, um," I try again. "Do you want me to take you home? Or… Um…"

"Hmm?" Her eyes are so wide as she gazes at me, her whole body leaning slightly forward. It feels like an invitation.

"Or, um, you could stay here?"

"Are you asking?"

That's not a no. "Yeah." I intertwine our fingers and take a deep breath. "Will you stay? Please?"

Her nod is small, but that's okay. "Yeah." Then, so gently, she leans forward and brushes her lips against mine.

I cup the back of her neck with my hand and pull her closer, sighing hard at the relief. She wants to be here. With me. Kissing me. I open my mouth to breathe her in, falling into a kiss so deep, so wet and soft.

And she said yes.

She said _yes_.

I suck her lip between mine one final time, then let her go. I stand and hold my hand out.

Together in the dark, we make our way back to my bedroom, and for a second I hesitate. I should probably offer her something to sleep in. Should probably go brush my teeth. Or turn some lights on.

But I do none of that. None of it.

Instead, I'm just with her, next to her, and her mouth is so hot, her body so soft and supple as I pull her up against me. My hands roam more freely now, learning the curve of waist and hip, the side of her breast. I touch her throat and suck her jaw, and she melts into me.

Her hands get freer, too.

When she first slides her hand down below the waistline of my pants, I groan, letting my fingers curl into her hip. She cups my backside and pulls me into her. Her stomach is soft against my erection, her breasts so full against my chest.

And I want… God, I want…

"Bella," I whisper between kisses. "You feel…"

"Yes."

And I'm not a gentleman. I'm not.

I'm just a boy in love. Desperate to touch. To _feel_…

I walk her backwards toward my bed. She's the one to sit on it. The one to pull me down with her.

And then everything starts to blur.

I don't know if I push or she pulls, but she ends up on her back, _in my bed_, so supple and warm, and I'm on top of her. All I can feel is her kiss, her hands on my back and in my hair, on my hip, pulling me into her. I'm so hard, aching to feel this with her, and I thrust, pushing myself against her. And she moans. She _moans_.

She sneaks a hand up under my shirt, hot palm to bare skin, electrifying contact. When she pushes the hem up, I don't even try to stop her. I help. I shift my legs and sit up and pull it off myself, just wanting closer. And then her hands are on me, caressing ribs and navel, and when she brushes the line of hair that leads toward my belt, I groan, long and low. I want her to touch me. I want…

Kissing my way down her throat, I shift lower against her body, afraid this will all be over far too soon. When my lips meet the upper swell of her breast, she clasps a hand to the back of my head. She's the one to pull the top of her dress down.

God, she's beautiful. So beautiful.

So…bare.

Creamy skin, milk-white and round and… I suck her nipple into my mouth and grind my hips into the mattress between her legs. I've never wanted so much to just…to just…

"God, Bella," I groan. I roll off of her and to the side, then pull her back into me. My hand finds its way beneath her dress, drifting dangerously high up her thigh. And it feels so _good_. I take one glance down, see the way her skirt is shifted up, revealing all that leg, and my hand, and…

"Here."

She sits up. Reaches down. At first I think it's to set her dress to rights. But it's not.

God, it's not.

She grasps the hem in both her hands and pulls up. Pulls it over her head.

And I can't breathe. I can't.

Black bra. Black panties.

Oh my God, and so much skin.

My groan this time is pained, the noises coming out of me too much, and I think I'll come if she so much as touches me. With a shaky hand, I reach for her. Touch the bare skin of her stomach. Drift higher.

"You're so beautiful."

She falls back into my arms, back into my kiss, and I want to get on top of her. To slide inside and…

"_Jesus_."

Her hand cups my erection.

"Bella, I'm…"

"Shh. I just want to make you feel good."

I feel so good. So good.

I nod and hold my breath, my forehead sweaty against hers, and then she's unbuckling. Unbuttoning. Pushing down.

The cool air hits my cock, and I think I whimper. It's been so long.

"Please touch me." It feels so base to ask her that. But I need—"_Fuck._"

Her hand wraps around me, hot, soft palm and fingers so different from my own. It feels so good, so _right_.

And I'm already on a precipice, my skin crackling with the overwhelming sensation of being touched this way.

"_Bella_."

Slow strokes, gentle sliding and her breath. Her mouth at my ear. Wet.

"Does it feel good?"

And it's over. I'm crying out, my whole body tensing as I wrap my arms around her and bury my face against her neck.

It's all heat and a wave, the world going black, and liquid, pumping, a splash against my stomach, and everything slick as she slides up and down.

For the longest time, I float.

Everything is warm and perfect.

Perfect.

Perfect.


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own ... up to the fact that Edward was a little eager last chapter.

Ngl, your guys' lack of faith in him kind of disturbs me, though.

* * *

><p>26<p>

The sound of Bella giggling finally brings me back down to earth. I shudder as she pulls her hand away from me, then slides a finger around the tip.

I burrow deeper into her hair and shift slightly, bringing my leg up between us so it touches hers. She's still laughing, and I should be worried about that, but I can't. I feel too good.

"Never laugh at a naked man," I mumble, stroking her arm. "Might make him paranoid."

"We kind of made a mess."

I force one eye open and move so I can look down between us. Even through the dimness… _Ew._

She's right. There's spunk…everywhere. On my stomach and her hand and her hip. A single white streak standing out against black lace.

And it's gross. It's so gross.

And it's the sexiest fucking thing I've ever seen.

I growl and kiss her lips. "Worth it."

All the same, I pull away a second later and reach for the box of tissues on my nightstand, hoping she won't read too much into the fact that I keep it there. After handing a wad of them to her, I grab some more and clean myself off. As I glance at the tangled mess of my clothes around my thighs, I'm stuck in an internal debate: pull them the rest of the way off or put them back on? In the end, I opt for something in between, tossing my pants in the corner but tugging my boxer briefs up over my hips.

Once we're both more or less spooge-free, I lie back down beside her and brush her hair from her face. Her eyes are focused somewhere around the middle of my chest, her finger stroking through the hair there.

"So it was…good?"

Does she have no idea?

"Um. Yeah. Pretty much the best thing ever."

At that, she gives me a quizzical look, but I don't have time to think about it. Her body language is closed and self-conscious, her lip between her teeth. Like she isn't sure of me. And we can't be having that.

I am so, so not done with her yet.

"Come here."

I pull her back into my arms and find her mouth with mine. At first, she stays tense, but as I run my hands along her body, finally enjoying it sanely, without the need to come barreling down on me, she loosens up. Before long, she's just as pliable as she was before. I have the concentration to read her now, to feel the tightness of her thigh where it's thrown over mine, to sense the angle of her hips.

Kissing my way along her jaw to her ear, I swallow hard. And then, shaky, I ask, "Can I touch you?"

Her nails dig into my back, and she murmurs a low, "Yes."

I trace my hand back up her spine, round her shoulder and then slide down to cup her breast. She doesn't react much when I squeeze, but when I slip my fingertips under the edge of her bra to brush her nipple, she goes liquid in my arms. "Like that?"

"Yeah. _Oh._"

There's pressure on the back of my head, fingers twisting in my hair. It's all the urging I need. I suck on her throat and on her collar bone, travel down and down. Her flesh is so lush against my lips, her nipple a soft rose as I pull the cup of her bra down. The instant I suck her peak into my mouth, she moans and holds my head there.

_Like there's anywhere else I want to be._

The leg around my waist slides higher, her body pulling mine toward it. When I feel damp lace against my hip, I bear down too hard, let my teeth graze flesh as my hands curl up into fists. But she just arches. Just presses closer. I fit my hand against the hollow by her hip, wanting so badly to _feel_ her.

Awed and pained with how turned on I am, even after, I slide the backs of my knuckles along the waistband of her underwear and let her breast slip from my mouth. I look up at her to find her eyes burning into mine.

My voice is husky and low. "Can I?"

She sucks in a deep breath and nods.

Coarse curls. Silky flesh. Hot.

_Wet_.

"Oh God, Bella." I stroke lightly through the valley of her sex, learning and touching. She moans when my fingertips slide around her opening.

And then when I touch just above it, she pants my name, tightens everything, arms around my head and thighs around my hips. Expectant.

Only I have no idea what I'm doing.

I look up at her, plaintive, and press another kiss against her heart. Desperate and tentative, I whisper, "Will you show me? What you like?"

She only hesitates an instant, and then she nods.

"Right there," she breathes. I slip slick fingertips around the little nub that made her tense. Her clit? "Yeah." Her eyes are closed now, her whole body braced. "Just light. _Oh._" She swallows hard._ "_Faster."

I'm floundering and touching her, amazed and terrified and – _God_. She slides her hand over mine, and for a second, she pushes me until my fingers probe her opening. "Inside," she says. "Just…to get it wet."

I muffle my cry against her chest when I feel that hot flesh parting, the tight embrace of the inside of her body, and someday…someday…how that would _feel_. Around _me_.

I nearly choke with the sudden ache of it.

"Now back up." Her touch is a soft pressure on my wrist. I obey, shuddering at the wet sound it makes when my fingers slip free. I find her clit again, and she lets me. She keeps her hand over mine, urges harder, then faster, then—"_Fuck. _Edward. Just like that. Just like that." Her voice is a pant, a near-silent scream, faster and faster, higher, and a breath, and, "Edward Edward EdwardEdward_EdwardEdward**Edward**_." Her hand forces mine up against her, and I can barely breathe as she convulses.

My whole body clenches down. She's coming.

I made Bella come.

Finally, she melts, every muscle relaxing. She lets go of my wrist and slides her hand around my waist, holding me as I hold her. I stroke her clit one final time, twitching at her answering shiver, then slip my hand free of her panties. My fingers are slick. With _her_.

I made her come.

"God, Bella," I groan as I hold her tighter.

She's so amazing. So beautiful and sexy.

She's so much better than my fantasies.

She's better because she's real.

.

.

.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** This little bit of citrus has been my holiday present to you.

My husband's Christmas break starts tomorrow, and I've decided that, in order to give myself a bit of a rest and to give my family the time and attention they deserve, I'm going to take a few days off from daily updates. Best of wishes to you and yours.

I'll see you again sometime next week.

xoxo, -tlig


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: **So... did you miss me? I definitely missed you. My Christmas was lovely...except the part where I got sick and stayed sick. Bleh.

Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a rapidly emptying bottle of NyQuil.

* * *

><p>27<p>

"My God, I needed that." Bella's still breathing hard, sprawled out on her back, one arm cradled under her head and the other slumped across the pillow, while I lie on my side, tracing patterns on her skin. We're both still in our underwear, and it's awesome.

I don't even care that there's what I assume is a boob-print smearing one whole lens of my glasses.

"Yeah?"

"Hell, yeah. God. Dinner out and a movie? And then the sex?" At that, she tips her head back further and moans. It sounds like the noise she makes when she comes.

And that's when it hits me. I know what it sounds like when Bella comes.

"What are you grinning so hard about?" she asks.

"Nothing," I lie. "I'm just…happy."

She rolls over onto her side to face me and drapes an arm around my waist. "Good. Me, too."

We lie there like that for a while, until she gives a little shiver. Reluctantly, I sit up enough to grab the covers from the foot of the bed and drape them over us. On the way, I place a kiss or two on her stomach and her hip. She pulls the blanket up over her shoulders, and I silently tell her breasts goodbye, hoping it won't be too long of a separation before I see them again.

"Thanks," she says. Once I lie back down, she snuggles into my chest, and I wrap an arm around her.

Life really doesn't get much better than this.

I'm all relaxed and blissed out as I hold her, my mind drifting aimlessly, when she speaks again. "Soooo…"

"Hmm?"

"So this is one of those weird questions, like at dinner? Where you don't have to answer if you don't want to."

I furrow my brow. "Okay?"

"Have you, um … Have you done that kind of thing? Much? Before?"

Oh.

_Oh._

Crap.

I still my hand against her shoulder and direct my gaze up at the ceiling. It's so embarrassing, but I knew it would come up eventually. Trying to keep my voice level, I ask, "Is it that obvious?"

"No. Well, um, yeah, but…not in a bad way?" She keeps touching my chest in little reassuring circles. It's probably the only thing keeping me from freaking out. "I mean, it was kind of nice to have someone be that appreciative of a handjob," she tells me with a smile. "And like, when you asked me what to do? That was reallyhot. Some guys just fumble around down there, and it's like, um… And I never have the guts to tell them, you know? So that was good. _Really _good."

"Oh."

Some guys. So she's definitely not as inexperienced as me.

When I don't offer anything else, she prods me. "So?"

"So?"

"So have you?"

"Um…" Shit. I word my answer carefully, wanting to be honest but without showing her just how bad it is. "Well, it's not like I haven't dated before. There were a few girls in college. And one in high school, but that was a disaster. And I've done _some_ stuff…" This is the hard part. I exhale loudly. "But, um, not really anything beyond what we just did."

I can almost see the big, red, flashing neon sign about my head screaming _VIRGIN!_

I grit my teeth and admit, "And I've never, like, made a girl, um…you know. Before."

"Come?"

At least I don't have to worry about all the blood in my body going to my cock. It's all in my face.

I've never _talked_ about making a girl come before either.

"Yeah."

Her lips are hot against my cheek, sliding to my ear to suck lightly there. "Well, then you did doubly amazing."

I smile for the first time since she brought it up. "Really?"

"_Really._"

My chest expands, and I breathe a little easier. Especially when she touches her lips to mine in a soft, lingering kiss. But then she pulls away suddenly, holding herself about three inches from my face. "Just so we're clear, though. You're a virgin by choice because the right situation, like, hasn't presented itself or something, right? You don't have some religious opposition to sex or anything, do you?"

"God, no!" I grab her by her hip, flirting dangerously close to her ass, hold her neck and tug her back to my lips. "Definitely, definitely no."

"Phew," she says with a giggle, kissing me back. After a minute or two of that, she settles in against my side again and goes back to stroking my chest, her smile curious. Mischievous. "So. A 'couple girls in college'? Care to elaborate?"

Not really. But oh well.

I shrug. "There's not a lot to elaborate on. There was a really nice girl toward the end of my sophomore year, but she was a senior. When she graduated, she got into grad school on the other side of the country, and we decided to just be friends. Then a few dates here and there. I saw another girl, a drama major, my senior year. She's the one I, uh…" My face heats up again. "…did stuff with. But as it turns out, drama wasn't just her major. It was basically her personality, too."

"Suck."

"Pretty much."

"And that's it?"

"Yeah." I turn to look at her, uncertain how to react to the broadness of her smile. "Then I got into grad school and I didn't have time to breathe, much less date. Until one day, this really gorgeous woman randomly ran into me in the break room."

"Oh?" She waggles her eyebrows suggestively. "And how's that working out?"

I slide my fingers through her hair and shift so I can kiss her. It's supposed to be a sexy move. Playful. Only, when I open my mouth, the words come out entirely too intense. "Great," I murmur. "It's really, really great."

She grabs my hand and squeezes it, her eyes darting between mine. She pauses for a moment, and then, the corners of her mouth lifting up, she tells me, "I think it's going great, too."


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: **Thanks for the well-wishes. I'm still sick, but no longer feel like walking death, so I guess that's an improvement.

Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a box of Puffs Plus with Lotion.

* * *

><p>28<p>

Her smile is so pretty I have to kiss it. The motion of our mouths is idle this time, though, and before long, we're lying side by side again. I stroke her hair and contemplate.

Contemplate the idea of what 'some guys' have done while they've been touching her.

I swallow hard and play with her fingertips. "In the interest of fairness… Have you done a lot of…_that_ kind of thing before?"

"Ugh." It's her turn to act uncomfortable as she rolls over to her back. "Define a lot?"

"Well, you've, um…" My throat gets tight. "You've _had_ sex before?"

She nods, and it makes something in my chest feel uncomfortable. Then again, she's so beautiful. So nice and smart and easy to talk to. Guys must have been tripping over themselves to ask her out, back before the situation with her dad when she got so withdrawn.

"Yeah," she says after a minute. "Not much, though. Just two guys. One my freshman year of college." She meets my eyes for a second, grimacing. "Big mistake."

"Uh-oh."

"Yeah. Jerk didn't tell me 'til after he popped my cherry that he had a girlfriend."

"Ouch."

"Pretty much." She glances away, seeming to make a conscious effort to keep her expression neutral. "I'd had a couple steady boyfriends back in high school, and we'd fooled around a little, but it was always exclusive, you know? So I got to college expecting the same thing and then, bam. Illusion dispelled."

"I'm so sorry, Bella." I tentatively brush her knuckles with my fingertips. The idea that someone used her that way, took something like that away from her…

For the first time, I'm glad I waited.

I'm glad I get to give it to her.

If she wants it.

She flips her hand over and clasps it with mine. "Thanks. But it's fine. Now. Oddly enough, I didn't trust guys after that, so I didn't date much. When I did, I didn't go all the way. Not until I was a senior. I dated this guy, Jake, for almost the whole year. And we, um, slept together. I really liked him." She turns her head to face me. "But then I got into grad school out here, and he got a job somewhere else. We were going to try the long distance thing, but when everything happened with my dad… Jake didn't get why I couldn't come out to see him at all. Or why I didn't have time to talk on the phone every day. He got really mad and said I wasn't serious about our relationship. Even accused me of cheating on him and demanded I switch schools and move closer to him." She scoffs, but it's bitter. So bitter.

The tumblers in my mind fall into place. All the things she said about not knowing how much she could give me. Every time she asked if I really wanted this.

"That's terrible."

"Yeah. Anyway, obviously we didn't last long after that. It's probably just as well. We wanted different things anyway. I don't think he ever really took me planning to be a professor very seriously. When he told me to quit school, it just cemented things for me. This is what I've been working toward all my life, you know?"

"I do." I really, really, do. It's what I've always wanted, too. Just another way we're so well-suited for each other.

And yet I can't shake the niggling bit of insecurity. I pull my fingers away from hers and stroke them over her palm. "Did you love him?"

I hate the way my voice shakes.

"Yeah," she answers slowly. "I did. At the beginning, anyway. But by the end, he was basically a nuisance." She pauses, and waits until I meet her gaze. "And I most certainly don't have any lingering feelings for him now."

"No?"

She shakes her head. "Definitely not. I only have eyes for one guy."

"Oh really?"

"Yup."

Her fingers thread through my hair and urge me closer.

When my lips are a hair's breadth from hers, I murmur, "Lucky bastard."

Before she kisses me, she grins. "Not nearly as lucky as I am."

#

We stay up talking for the longest time, moving on from the heavy relationship talk to lighter stuff. Every now and then, I catch a flash of skin or brush my bare leg against hers. And I can't believe we're talking like this – like best friends – while almost naked in my bed.

Finally, she yawns for the fourth or fifth time in a row, and I realize my eyes are drooping, too.

"We should probably go to sleep, huh?"

She nods while stifling another yawn. "I'm beat. But I don't want this to end."

I cup her cheek. "It doesn't have to. Not really."

"I know. But this whole night has just been so nice."

"It has." With one last peck against her lips, I rise to sit on the edge of the bed. I look back at her for just a second. "You really sure you want to sleep over?"

"You kicking me out?"

"Hell, no. I just don't want you to think you don't have an option."

She chuckles and shakes her head at me. "I really want to stay."

"Cool."

"Think I could borrow a T-shirt or something to sleep in?"

"Sure."

I pad over to my dresser to pull out one of my tighter undershirts and toss it to her. She reaches out to grab it and sits up. "Thanks."

And then she takes off her bra.

I have to catch myself on the dresser to keep from falling over. I don't know what I expected – maybe that she'd go to the bathroom to change or wait for me to leave the room or something. But not this. Definitely not this.

"Jesus, Bella."

Her breasts are perfect, round and smooth with the softest, rosy-pink nipples. They're neither huge nor small. Just…perfect.

She has the shirt half-way over her head when her eyes widen and she looks at me. Scrambling to pull the hem of the shirt down over her breasts, she apologizes. "I'm sorry, I didn't even think—"

"Bella. Do not even _think_ about apologizing." I'm tenting my underwear obscenely. But considering she's seen me without them now… "I am completely okay. In fact, feel free to do…" I gesture vaguely at her chest. "…_that_ basically anytime you want."

She laughs and fluffs her hair out, tugging it out of the back of the shirt. "I'll keep that in mind. Any chance I could borrow a toothbrush, too?"

"No," I say, heading toward the bathroom. Over my shoulder, I call, "But you can have one."

One that she can use the next time she sleeps over. And the next time and the next time.

As I dig through my bathroom cupboard looking for a fresh one, I remind myself that she won't be sleeping over that often. After all, we just had this big, serious conversation about all the stuff she has to do. But at the same time, I don't doubt that someday she will.

We both clean up and then meet again in my bed. She settles into what at this point I guess is her side. I take my glasses off and put them on my nightstand, before reaching to turn off the bedside lamp. In the darkness, I roll toward her, gathering her up inside the circle of my arms. She shuffles herself back until we're flush, then cranes her neck for a goodnight peck. Turning back to face away from me, she hums contentedly.

"Goodnight, Edward."

"Goodnight, Bella."

Even as I fall asleep, I'm still smiling.


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: **Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own eight cases of flooring that hubs thinks we're going to install today. Lord help us all.

(Update tomorrow will depend on exactly how poorly this goes.)

* * *

><p>29<p>

In my dream, I'm in my office, sitting at my desk. Naked.

This should probably alarm me, but all I can focus on is the soft pressure of lips against my chest, the silky strands of hair between my fingers. Every atom in my body screams out _Bella. Bella. Bella._

I shift my hips forward as she kisses lower. So low.

And there's pressure. Pleasure.

I wake up to the sound of my own groan.

And then to the shock of finding those lips are _real_.

My eyes snap open, and another inhuman sound escapes my lips. I'm on my back. In my bed. Dressed only in my underwear, and for the first time in years I'm not alone.

"Jesus, Bella."

The blurry image of her pauses and looks up at me, licking once around my nipple. _Fuck,_ I didn't know that that could feel so good. My hips reflexively buck up again, and there's the pressure from my dream.

Bella's in my bed. Kissing my chest.

_Straddling_ me.

"Good morning," she murmurs before sucking at my skin again. As she does, she bears down with her hips.

I move one hand to her waist and one to the back of her neck, tilting my head back and closing my eyes as my morning erection grows. I can feel her heat and her weight, that slick-soft space between her legs hidden only by the fabric of our underclothes. Otherwise, we'd be—we'd—

I groan and slip my hand beneath her shirt, touching soft skin and lace. My fingers tighten as I pull her closer. She hums, a sound that's low and sensual. Like she feels this, too.

Tugging at her neck, I beg, "Come here." Her lips meet mine, and I'm lost in her kiss and in the crush of her body as it presses, every inch fit to mine. I nudge the hem of her T-shirt higher, up to her ribs, and then there's just soft flesh, so ripe and full inside my palm. "Oh my God, I love your breasts."

Am I even awake yet?

If not, I must be dreaming. Because at my words, she doesn't pull away or slap me.

Instead, she whips her shirt off.

"Oh my God," I groan again, grinding harder into her as I cup her breasts with both my hands. Even blurry, they're beautiful.

She hums and slips her tongue into my mouth, angling her hips. "That feels so good, Edward."

"So good." Things are spiraling fast now, and I try to calm myself down.

It's useless, though.

Especially when she speaks again.

Mouth wet and hot against my ear, she breathes, "Just imagine when we do this for real. How that'll feel."

The noises I'm making now don't even make sense. Nothing does. It's all just scattered images and her weight, the feel of her skin and the way she's pressing on me.

Pressing.

_Pressing._

"Bella, if you don't—"

"I'm gonna come."

"Jesus fuck—" It's all too much and all too fast, too good, and –

"Edward," she whines. Her mouth is on me, her hips rubbing faster and faster, and then she cries out.

I let her breasts go and grab her hips, thrusting up against her in earnest a half dozen times before it all boils over, and I grunt her name, coming hard between us as she stills.

A second later, she collapses on top of me, arms around my neck and her hair pressed to my cheek.

"God, I love waking up with you," she breathes.

Liquid, I slide my palm up and down her naked back, then squeeze her tight.

"You have no idea."

But something tells me she just might.

#

I consider asking Bella if she'd like to shower with me, but in the end, I stop myself. There is _nothing_ attractive about a guy who's just come in his underwear. As is, she gets out of bed and tugs her shirt back on, then wanders off into the kitchen anyway. "Coffee?" she asks.

"Yeah," I tell her as I put my glasses on. "Should be near the—"

"Never mind. I found it."

I'm a little scared of what else she'll find, but I'm too sleepy-happy to worry too much. After mumbling at her that I need to clean up, I stagger to the bathroom and turn the shower on. With the door locked, I peel the wet cotton of my boxer briefs down.

_Ew._

I wash up quickly, only realizing once I'm done that I didn't bring any clothes with me. It's not usually an issue since I live alone, but today it's kind of a problem. Figuring there's nothing I can do about it now, I wrap my towel around my waist and wander out. The coast is clear, so I make a break for my bedroom, where I manage to get a fresh pair of boxers and a T-shirt on before Bella comes looking for me.

She comes right up to me and runs a hand through my still-wet hair, then lifts up on tip-toes to kiss me. "Mmm, you smell nice."

Probably a hell of a lot better than I did this morning. She, however, seems to have that magical girl-power of smelling like flowers all the time.

"So do you."

She laughs with a snort. "Sure." Patting my chest, she steps away. "I made breakfast."

I tilt my head at her. "Really?"

There was enough food in my kitchen to make something out of?

"Well, it's kind of like breakfast. You had some Bisquick in the back of your pantry. I made do."

It's better than I usually manage. "Cool."

It isn't until I get to the kitchen that I remember I don't have a table. I look around, trying to think of something.

"Couch?" she suggests.

I sigh in relief. "Perfect."

We sit side by side in our underwear and T-shirts, watching Muppet clips on YouTube, eating instant pancakes with fake maple syrup. But the coffee is real, and so is the half and half. I made sure of that.

It might be the best breakfast I've ever had.

#

"You sure you don't want to come in?"

I'm idling in front of Bella's house, watching the windows. The curtains are drawn, so I can't see anything. But wouldn't that be just how Charlie would play it?

Lay in wait with a rifle just inside the door?

I shudder and force a smile. "Nah. I have a bunch of work to get done."

"Okay." She leans across the console and plants a wet, soft kiss on my lips. "See you tomorrow at school?"

"Yup." I grab her hand before she can pull too far away. "Bella?"

"Yeah?"

"I know I'll see you at school and all, but…can I _see_ you again? Soon?"

She bites her lip and frowns at me.

My chest tightens. I thought we'd agreed on this.

Her eyes dart toward her house and then back at me, and she breathes out a long sigh, squeezing my hand. "Yeah. Of course."

"Really?"

Could I sound more surprised?

"Yes. How about…Wednesday? Dad doesn't have any therapy appointments that day, so maybe he'll be in a good mood. You could come over after work. For dinner?"

My face splits with the wideness of my smile. "Sounds perfect."

Then it's my turn to lean over the console. To kiss her.

She lets me for a minute, then pulls away and cracks open her door. "See you then."

I just nod.

The whole way home, I hum the clip we watched at breakfast.

_Everything is perfect, it's falling into place.  
>I can't seem to wipe this smile off my face.<em>


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: **Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own one bottle of bubbly. Cheers!

* * *

><p>30<p>

When I get to Bella's house on Wednesday, there's a car I don't recognize parked in her driveway. I pull in alongside it and frown.

Grabbing my book bag, I get out and head up the walk. I have to wait a minute after ringing the doorbell, and to my surprise, Bella's dad is the one to answer it. He's sitting in his wheelchair, looking me up and down. "Hey, Edward," he says gruffly as he backs out of the way.

It's the first time I've seen him since Bella slept over at my apartment. I scan him twice to make sure he doesn't have a gun.

My palms sweat, but I keep the squeak out of my voice as I say, "Hello, sir." I step forward into the entryway and close the door behind me, then dig in my backpack. I look around furtively before pulling out the single beer Bella gave me permission to bring him. "Got something for you."

He glances over his shoulder before cracking a smile and reaching for the bottle. "Knew I let you live for a reason."

I heave a huge sigh of relief and retrieve my own beer from my backpack before putting the bag down near the door and taking off my coat. I follow Charlie to the living room; through the doorway to the kitchen, I see Bella talking to a middle-aged woman in a nurse's uniform. When Bella's eyes connect with mine, she smiles and waves me over.

"Hey," she says, placing one hand on my waist and leaning in to give me a quick peck on the corner of my mouth. I'm glowing as I wrap my arm around her. She turns back to the nurse with a blush on her face and grips my shirt. "Sue, this is my boyfriend, Edward. Edward, this is my dad's nurse."

I let go of Bella just long enough to hold out my hand. Sue takes it and shakes firmly, and as she does I get a better look at her. Her skin is a medium brown, her eyes alive with laugh lines, and her black hair is tied up in a neat bun. "Nice to meet you."

She quirks up one eyebrow. "So you're the reason Bella's been smiling so much recently."

Bella blushes deeper and looks down. I let go of Sue's hand and pull my girl back into my side. "I sure try."

"Good. A girl like Bella needs a nice young man in her life."

"Anyway," Bella interrupts. "Sue was just leaving."

Charlie grunts. "C'mon, Sue. Leave these two lovebirds alone. I'll roll you out."

Sue laughs and follows him, and for a second I squint. They seem awfully…comfortable with each other. But I guess that kind of thing happens when you see each other every day. I shrug it off and turn to Bella, glancing once to make sure Charlie isn't looking before pulling her in for a proper hello kiss.

Bella only lets me get a few seconds in before she pulls back and sighs. "Raincheck?"

Now that I'm here, it's easier to remember that I promised not to push. "Sure." I head over to the fridge and put my beer away, then turn back to her. She's got a ton of stuff out on the counter, like she's getting ready to cook. "Anything I can do to help?"

She pauses to think for a minute. "Yeah, actually. I'm just making tacos, if that's okay?"

"Yum."

"Cool. If you could just grate up that block of cheese, I got everything else."

"Can do."

She gets out a cutting board and grater for me. I wash my hands and roll up my sleeves, then get to it. As I work, she's dancing all around the kitchen, seemingly doing a million things at once. By the time I'm done, there's meat browning in a skillet and she's tearing through the lettuce and tomatoes. I gesture to the pile of cheese. "Anything else you need me to do?"

As I spesk, I sneak a pinch of cheese and drop it into my mouth. Bella catches me and smiles, then opens her own mouth. I grab another little handful and feed it to her. She grins as she chews.

And she's so damn cute.

"I got everything else. This is super easy."

"Still way more complicated than anything I would do."

She shakes her head as if to say, 'boys'. Gesturing toward the living room, she urges me, "You can go keep my dad company if you want. For all his grumbling, I think he may have been looking forward to you coming."

Sure enough, he's already at the dining room table, sitting in front of his beer and the checkers set. I chuckle and kiss her nose. "Okay."

I grab my beer from the fridge and join him.

And it feels so normal.

Like I fit.

Like I'm part of her life.

#

The instant Bella's door closes behind us, I'm pushed up against it, my breath knocked out me as her mouth meets mine. For a second, I don't even know how to react, my hands frozen in the air, unresponsive. There are the faint strains of whatever movie Charlie just put on floating through the house, and that's when it strikes me.

He can't hear us.

I drop my backpack and wrap one arm around her while the other moves to turn the lock to her door. I kiss her back with everything I've got, all the restraint of the flirting touches we've been sharing these past few days falling away. When our tongues meet, I groan and pull her even closer, finally giving up and lifting her against me. She squeals, but I muffle it with my mouth. Her breasts are pressed against my chest, and as I take my first staggering step toward her bed, she wraps her legs around my waist.

"Jesus," I mumble. My legs hit mattress and I climb clumsily on top of it, laying her down on her back and hovering over her on my hands and knees. She's beaming and her cheeks are flushed.

"Hi," she whispers.

"Hi."

And then I'm kissing her again. I reach into my pants to shift my erection to a more comfortable position, then lower myself so my hips are fit to hers.

God, she feels good.

For a few minutes we lie there just like that, grinding and panting, but I want more.

And there's something. Something about her acceptance, about _her_ pressing _me_ into the door. Something about being here, in her home.

It makes me bold.

Kissing a hungry, wet line from her lips to her ear, I suck on her skin and revel in her moan. "God, Bella. All week, all I've been able to think about is making you come."

She groans even louder and clutches me close.

"Can I?" I ask. I slide my hand down her side to rest it on her hip.

I wonder what color her panties are today. How she'll _feel_.

If she'll tense and fall apart in that same, perfect way.

"God, yes."

I growl and nip her ear and roll us to our sides. With fumbling fingers, I find the button to her jeans. It gives without much struggle, and then there's just the quiet click of zipper teeth. Damp cotton.

And it's too fast. Entirely too fast.

Maybe it's that we're here or that it feels like we're sneaking around in her parents' house, even though we're both adults. But she seems to feel the same urgency I do.

She reaches down and tugs her clothing to her knees and off, and I can't help but look.

_Oh my God._

Naked hips and naked thighs, short, dark curls and a flash of pink flesh as she shifts.

I attack her mouth again. "You're so beautiful."

"_Oh_."

I don't need any instruction this time. I remember what she taught me, and I remember how she feels. Slick and silky, her flesh so soft. I touch her gently until she starts to breathe hard, and then I dip inside.

The heat of it still staggers me.

Still, I don't linger too long.

_Just to get it wet_, she told me.

She's so _wet_.

"You feel so incredible," I whisper, my face pressed tight against hers, glasses askew and fingers inside her.

Her breath hiccups. "_You_ do."

I try a couple new things, even though I stick mostly to the script. I thrust a little deeper, then retreat and spread that slickness all around, learning the soft shape of her lips before sliding up to her clit. The instant I connect with it, she gasps and clutches at me harder.

My voice is shaking as I dare to ask, "Does that feel good?"

"So good. Edward, it's so good."

I tease and touch, dipping inside and then back up.

With a little whine, fingernails against my spine, she breathes. "Please."

I throb inside my jeans as I give her what she wants. No more play, I rub and rub, faster and harder until she sucks in the sharpest breath.

She bites down on my neck, gasping and clenching. Coming. And this time I can _feel_ it.

I can feel the way her flesh is pulsing.

"God, Bella. You're so gorgeous when you come." She tenses harder, bites deeper, and it hurts. But I don't care. "It makes me so hard," I breathe, delirious.

The words are faint, but she hears them all the same.

Her teeth let go and she swears, grabbing my hand and shoving it so my fingers push inside her. Holding my wrist there, she contracts around me again and again.

It's a few seconds before she calms down, her body relaxing and her grip on my wrist softening. At long last, her eyes blink open.

They're still full of fire.

And the next thing I know, she's on top of me.

She beams and kisses me deeply.

And then she murmurs, "Your turn."


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: **Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a brand new floor.

Happy New Year!

* * *

><p>31<p>

On one level, I'm just as frantic as I was the first time she touched me, but on another I'm so much calmer. I know what it will feel like. I know I already made her feel good.

And I'm hers. At her mercy.

Trusting.

With one hand at the back of her head and the other on her breast, I match the rhythm of her kiss, giving where she asks and taking what she offers. Clever finger sneak between us, and I lift my hips when she moves to pull my pants off. Through my underwear, she strokes, and I groan into her mouth. After a few minutes of teasing touches, she tugs at the waistband, leaving me bare and aching.

And there's a moment. A moment when every inch of my skin is aware. She's still naked from the waist down, and I'm right there. _Right there_.

I've waited twenty-three years, and it could be now. Right here. Right now.

Except it can't be. It won't.

Not half-dressed with her father in the living room. Not my first time. Not my first time with _her_.

"Bella," I whisper, unsure how to tell her that I want her, desperately, but that I'm not ready.

Fortunately, she seems to be of the same mind.

"Shh." With soft kisses on my jaw and down my throat, she makes her way down my body, pushing my shirt up as she goes.

It's not until she presses wet lips to the bottom of my ribs that I feel the flash of heat, the moment of intuition.

And I should tell her she doesn't have to. That I don't expect—

She kisses just above my navel. I moan and ball my hands up into fists at my sides as I clench my jaw shut.

There's no way I'm pretending I don't want this.

Her mouth blazes a trail down my abdomen, and she nips at my hip, then licks the bite. Shifting, she brings her face up level with my cock. Runs her tongue along her lip.

I think I'll die if she doesn't take me in her mouth.

"Bella."

Her name dissolves into a choking groan when she licks the bead of fluid from my tip. With her eyes on mine the entire time, she places soft, wet kisses all along the underside, and every one of them is fire. I prop myself up on my elbows, desperate to see, but when she reaches the base of me, I can't even support my own weight.

"God, Bella. Please."

_Wet._

_Heat_.

I collapse backward, throw my head back and bring one hand up so I can bite down on my wrist. I'm too loud, too needy for her touch. Her mouth envelops just the tip of me, and it's so intense. So good.

So unlike anything I've ever felt before.

For a minute, she taunts me just like that, sucking all around the head, licking and kissing, and every touch of lips to flesh is a revelation.

I never knew it could be like this.

I clench my eyes shut and push my hand into my hair. "God, Bella. That's unreal."

She pops off long enough to ask, "You like it?"

My whole body shakes with the force of my laugh, but even that breaks off into a stuttering moan. "So good, Bella. It feels so good. Your mouth…"

And then I feel so much more of it. So much.

She sucks me deep, and I can feel the back of her throat, the tight purse of her lips. Wet heat and breath, and all of it moving as she slides up and down. I open my eyes for one desperate, delirious moment, and the image is almost too much for me.

Bella. Eyes closed, hair spilling onto my thighs, red lips full around my…

Her mouth is wrapped around my _cock_.

I force my eyes closed and fight to keep from thrusting, fight to keep my hand at my side instead of reaching for her face, to run my fingers through that hair. Up and down, she slides and slides. Just when I think I'm getting too close, she pulls off and sucks lower, hot breath on my balls and nips on the insides of my thighs and—

And then I'm back inside again, a growling mess of a man, all restraint and pleasure and so much love.

The woman I love is doing this for _me_.

It's too much. Scarcely able to breathe for how this feels, I slide tentative fingers into her hair, slip them through silky strands, feeling so connected. So whole.

She moans around me and speeds up, and a minute later, when her hand wraps around me, moving in synch with her mouth, I know it's over.

"Oh, Bella," I breathe. "Bella."

I can't deny myself the sight.

For a few seconds, I watch the way she moves on me, watch my wet, hard flesh, slick and shining as it disappears between her lips again and again.

Everything tightens.

"Bella, I'm—"

My whole body arches and I yank my hand away from her head, squeeze her shoulder. The first pulse fills her mouth, the next and the next. It seems to go on forever, all blackness and pleasure and everything releasing.

She swallows around me, and it just feels all the better as I shudder, spasming.

Eventually, I relax, let my body melt back into the mattress, and with my eyes still shut, I stroke her hair and moan. She lets me slip from her mouth and moves to sit.

I open my eyes.

Hers are bright, her lips swollen and wet.

_They might be wet with _me_._

The idea of doing that to her someday - of using my mouth to make her come - occurs to me, and I twitch against my hip. "Come here," I beg.

I don't even care that I'm tasting myself on her tongue. I don't care. I just need to kiss her. To love her.

To be with her.

#

"You kids get your studying done?"

I can't even look at Charlie as I fidget with my glasses and go to get my coat.

Fortunately, Bella saves me. "Everything we needed to."

"Well, that's good."

I make the mistake of looking up. Meeting his narrowed eyes.

We are so busted.

But at least he doesn't say anything.

Or, you know, shoot me.

I lean in to give Bella a goodnight peck, then wave to Charlie as I shoulder my backpack. "Good night, sir."

"G'night."

I'm safe inside my car with the doors locked before I let my breath out, my face cracking with the broadness of my smile.

Not only did I get my girl off _and_ get my first blow job.

But it looks like I even lived to tell the tale.


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: **Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I "own" a husband who has only ever cried once in the past ten years: when he thought he wasn't going to be able to hack it in his PhD program.

(He did just fine, by the way.)

* * *

><p>32<p>

For the third time in the fifteen minutes I've been sitting here, Dr. Molina clicks his tongue and hums, head shaking slightly as his mouth turns down. Behind his wire glasses, his eyes skim the screen in front of him.

My data's in his hands.

So is my future.

My palms damp with sweat, my stomach twisting as certainty sets in, I sit there in the chair across his desk from him, looking without hope for some kind of a sign. That maybe he'll see _something_ worth salvaging.

But all he does is click and hum.

It's been two weeks since Bella's sleepover, and the intervening days and nights have passed in a whir of work and kisses, coffee breaks and data and muffled touching in her room. It's been the best time of my life. And the most nerve-wracking.

This is the most nerve-wracking moment of all.

At long last, Dr. Molina pushes back from his desk, takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes.

I take a deep breath. "So…"

"Well, Edward. We've got a few options."

Options. Shit. This is worse than I thought.

"Clearly, the project isn't going the way we'd hoped."

"I still have a couple ideas…" Running away to Argentina, for example. That's an idea. Maybe they have a market for disgraced ex-doctoral candidates there.

"That's good," he says. "But we're out of time. Your presentation is scheduled for next Wednesday, and you have no results."

"It's not for lack of trying—"

He waves his hand. "I know, I know. You've been very diligent. But it may be time to accept that this line of research is not productive." Gesturing at the screen, he continues, "Your methodology is all sound, but the results just aren't there."

"I know."

"So here's what we can do." He begins counting on his fingers. "One, you keep working. Maybe there's something we missed."

"Okay." I'm not a praying man, but even I might make an appearance in church for this.

"Two, you can go up there just like planned and hope the committee sees how hard you've worked."

My stomach falls. We both know that's not going to happen.

"Three, we try to reschedule. It's unorthodox, but sometimes they'll hear qualifier exams in the spring semester if there are circumstances out of the candidate's control."

That's almost as bad as option two. The chances of winning over the committee after already admitting your project is useless are slim.

"Four… well, Edward, you need to decide what you want. If a Ph.D. is really something you see in your future."

The pit of despair in the bottom of my stomach opens up, revealing a shaft deep enough to rival the one Darth Vader threw the Emperor down.

"It is," I interrupt.

His expression is weary as he looks at me. "There's no shame in a Master's."

Except there is. Everyone knows a Master's in physics is a consolation prize for people who couldn't hack it. Everyone in academia, anyway. It means slinking off to industry. If I can even get a job there.

My dad'll be so disappointed.

And Bella…

"With all due respect, sir," I say, barely able to keep my voice steady. "I came here for a doctorate."

"And the door won't be closed to that."

"But it will be _here_." My first choice grad school. The one I always wanted to go to.

"Not necessarily," he says, but he rubs his temple as he speaks. "Once you get your Master's, you can reapply. Get assigned to a new project."

And even if they take me – which they won't – I'll be two years behind everyone else.

If this was my desk, I'd be banging my head against it.

"So that's it?" I ask, voice dull. "Pray for a miracle or accept my fate?"

Dr. Molina forces a smile. "Don't make it sound so bad."

But it is.

#

"Jeez, Edward. Did someone die?"

I scowl at Jasper and slump into my seat. "Just my future," I mumble

"Huh?"

"Nothing." It won't do any good to whine about this. It's embarrassing enough as it is. At least if no one knows, I can slink off into a the abyss of failure quietly.

"If you say so." He turns back to his computer, then looks back over his shoulder at me. "By the way, your girl stopped by while you were gone."

"Fuck." The meeting with Molina ran so long I missed my coffee date with Bella. As if my day could get much worse. I scramble for my phone and fire off a quick text, telling her I'm sorry and asking if it's too late to meet her now.

She replies a minute later, telling me she's back at work, but she's free for lunch. Well, at least that's something, I guess.

After agreeing to pick her up at noon, I open my calendar, staring at the nine days between me and my doom. I need some sort of game plan.

My mind slips quickly into problem-solving mode. I'll need at least two days to pull together the presentation itself. While I'll get some work done this week, I have all these other responsibilities, not to mention that the written exam is on Friday. And I need uninterrupted time. Outside-the-box-thinking time.

As much as it pains me, I highlight Saturday and Sunday on my calendar and block them off in red.

It's my only chance. My only one.

"Hello? Earth to Edward?"

I look up to find Jasper uncomfortably close. "What the hell, dude?"

He rolls his eyes at me. "I was asking you if everything is okay, but you were off in La La Land."

"Yeah," I say with an exhausted sigh. "I'm fine."

Lifting one eyebrow, he frowns. "Usually, when people say that in that tone of voice, they're anything but. What's going on? Lady problems? I can give you some pointers if you want." He wiggles his tongue suggestively, and I go scarlet all over.

No, I _hadn't_ been having any lady problems.

Though I've still been too scared to do…_that_. Not for lack of interest or anything. I just don't know if she's going to want to have to give directions again, and I can only take so much humiliation right now.

"I said everything's fine."

"Oh come on, Eddie. Tell me."

"Fine," I huff. Looking around, I beckon him closer, like I want to tell him something privately. When he's close enough for me to whisper in his ear, I tell him, in no uncertain terms, "Fuck. Off."

Then I shove his chair and turn back to my screen, searching for something. Only I don't even know what I'm looking for.

#

"You sure nothing's bugging you?" Bella's sitting across from me, her beautiful mouth tipped down into a frown.

I shake my head and smile, reaching for a french fry. "Nah. I'm fine. Just, you know, stressed."

She nods. "Tell me about it. You're presenting next Wednesday, right?"

"Yup." I chew and swallow. "You're up Tuesday?"

"Mhmm. I've been totally freaking out, too. I think I have my slides just about done, but I keep going over it again and again, you know?"

I don't. I haven't finished the research. What the hell would I put on my slides?

"I'm sure you'll be fine."

"Yeah, I know." She reaches across the table and strokes my hand. "Tell you what, though. I think we could both use a break."

"Oh?"

Her finger strokes a flirty little path on the back of my palm, and she looks up through her lashes at me.

Minx.

"Yup," she says, then licks her lips, eyebrows rising suggestively. "Sue may have volunteered to do another overnight on Saturday."

My jeans feel tighter, my throat rough. Images of Bella in my bed, maybe naked this time, sweep over me. Thoughts of touching her. Loving her.

_Making_ love to her.

God, I want that. I want that so much.

It's the most torturous exercise in willpower to extract my hand from under hers.

"I don't know," I say gruffly. "I have so much to do."

"Oh." She pulls her hand back too and looks down at what's left of her lunch. Her smile is fake, and it breaks my heart. "Sure. You're probably right."

"Bella." I wait until she looks up again. Holding her gaze, I intone meaningfully, "There is _nothing_ I want more than for you to come over this weekend. Nothing." My voice is husky, my hunger obvious.

"Nothing?" She still sounds disappointed, but the flirty tone is back.

"_Nothing_." Were I a bolder man, I'd tell her exactly what I want to do to her. But we're in the middle of the student union, surrounded by people. My breath probably smells like the onions from my burger.

And I'm about to get kicked out of grad school.

My confidence isn't exactly at an all-time high.

"Rain check?" she says hopefully.

I reach out and grab her hand again, squeezing it tight. "Absolutely. And we're still on to study at your house sometime this week, right?"

Because at her house it's safer. At her house, I can't sleep over. I can't get lost in her.

"Of course."

We finish up our lunch, then head back to the physics building, holding hands. I swing them between us, just because I can.

"So as to that rain check," she prods quietly.

"Hmm?"

"When are you heading home for Christmas?"

Shit. Christmas.

My phone feels like it's burning a hole in my pocket, the casing warm with all the messages my mom's been leaving for me.

"Um, I'm not sure yet."

"Oh. Well, let me know. I just hope we can maybe fit some time in? After exams and before you go."

I drop her hand and wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her close to kiss her temple. As confidently as I can, I answer, "Absolutely."

But deep inside, I wonder.

If I get bad news next Wednesday, will she still want to?

.

.

.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Deep breaths, people. It couldn't all be blow jobs and Muppets for the entire story. Just re-read the summary and have some faith. xoxo


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N: **Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a bunch of number two pencils.

* * *

><p>33<p>

Thursday night, the night before our written exam, Bella and I are sitting on the couch in her living room, huddled under a blanket and quizzing each other on equations. Charlie is in his man-cave, watching sports with the volume low.

We're getting a little handsy.

With her foot between my legs, Bella flips to the next flash card. "Magnetic field energy?"

I close my eyes and try to concentrate. It's especially hard when she wiggles her foot.

And I do mean _hard_.

Somehow, even over the arousal, I manage to recite, "E equals one over eight pi times the integral of d-three H dot B."

When I open my eyes, she's beaming. "Perfect."

"Do I get my reward?"

"Sure do." With a growl, she pulls me closer, kissing me deep and pressing her tongue into my mouth.

Best. Reward. Ever.

"And you know what?" she adds.

"What?"

To my surprise, she tosses the pile of flash cards onto the coffee table and wraps both her arms around my neck. "That's _it_."

I pull back. "Seriously?"

"Yup. We're officially ready."

It's my turn to growl as I push her back against the arm of the sofa. Nipping my way up her neck, I murmur, "So speaking of rewards…"

As one, we toss the blanket off our laps and run to her room. The instant the door's locked behind us, I have her pushed back on her bed, my body between her legs and my mouth on her throat. She groans and wraps her thighs around my hips.

"Ugh," she grunts. "Are you sure you don't have time for a sleepover this weekend?"

"Fuck, I wish I did."

I really, really do.

But she gets it. "Once these stupid exams are over…"

I make quick work of her pants, slide my fingers through swollen, wet flesh. Suck at her ear. "Once these exams are over, you're not going to be able to keep me away."

"No?" She pants and digs her nails into my neck, then reaches down to the waistband of my jeans. She pulls me out and wraps her hand around me, and it feels so, so good.

"The things I want to do to you."

"Tell me."

I close my eyes and focus on the feeling of her sex around my fingers, the warmth of her palm around my length. "God, Bella," I groan. "I want to be inside you. So bad."

And there it is. Naked between us, for all that we're both clothed. In every word and every touch, it's been implied, but for the first time, the words are out there, my desires bare. My need for her.

In the face of it, she clutches me closer. "I want you," she breathes.

And I could come. Just from that, I could come.

"So much."

And then there are just the sounds of sex as I know it, the rough slide of her strokes and the slick-wet slips of fingertips through female flesh. Harsh panting, little muffled grunts. Her pleasure and mine.

When it all starts to build, I whisper, "I'm close."

She lets out the sexiest, most desperate little noise. "Me, too."

"I want to feel you, baby."

With that, she seizes up, stifles her moans against my mouth, pulsing hot, and in the next instant, I'm releasing between us. It's the tension and the stress and the feel of her, so hot and wet around my fingers, but my orgasm leaves me shaking with its force.

It's the knowledge that, as perfect as this is, it's all leading up to more.

That if we survive this week, we've both mutually, silently decided on our reward.

#

The next morning, we file into a lecture hall in the basement of the physics building. To my chagrin, the professors have already laid out our exam books. Alphabetically. So Bella and I can't sit beside each other. In the aisle, I squeeze her hand and give her one last kiss. "Good luck," I whisper.

"You, too."

Up in the front of the room with the other 'C's, I sit and rearrange my pencils and my calculator over and over and over again. Finally, Bella's advisor, Professor Banner, steps forward and welcomes us to the 2011 graduate candidate qualifier exam in physics. He tells us something about how hard we've worked.

All I hear is the signal to begin.

I open the booklet and read each of the questions, mentally prioritizing them in order of difficulty, leaving the ones that will take the most figuring out for last. To my surprise, there's no hesitation, no moment of panic. I flip to the first problem on my list and begin. From there, the world all slides away into equations and derivations. I am a pencil scratching on paper, a flow of letters and numbers as the math pours out of my fingers.

Every time I write an equation Bella and I studied together, I feel like I'm on top of the world.

Three hours later, Professor Banner calls time, and I set my pencil down. I at least tried all of them, and with the exception of two that I had to bullshit a bit on, I feel good.

Like everything in front of me is…doable.

With that weight off my shoulders, I gather my things. Bella's waiting for me at the back of the room, and I wrap my arm around her as we make our way out.

"How'd it go?" I ask.

"I don't know." Her teeth tease her lip, but she doesn't look upset. "I think I did pretty well."

I kiss her hair. "I know you did. Hell, even I think I did okay."

"Pfft. 'Even you'."

"Whatever. You know you could kick my ass at this stuff."

She doesn't exactly deny it. One of the things I love about my girl is that she's humble but realistic, too. "Well, last night you seemed solid."

I shrug. "We'll see."

At the end of the hallway, I pull off to the side and lean back against the wall, tugging her close. As I brush her hair from her face, I smile and jerk my head toward the door that leads to the parking lot instead of to the offices. "I'm going to take off."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I'm not going to get anything else useful done today, and Molina said it was okay."

"All right." She slides a finger along the skin beneath the collar to my shirt. "You're working on your presentation all weekend?"

"That's the plan."

"Okay. Probably a good idea."

"Yeah."

"Can I call you?"

I hesitate for only a second, but it's enough.

"Never mind," she says. "I don't want to distract you."

"How about this," I say, leaning in for a kiss. "I'll call you. When I have time to take a break."

She gives me a small smile. "Okay. Sounds good. I'll see you on Monday?"

"We'll see how things go."

"Well, I hope they go really, really well." Smoothing her hands down my chest, she presses her lips to mine.

"Thanks."

"Good luck."

"You, too."

#

An hour later, I'm sitting in front of my computer in my living room, surrounded with file boxes of journal articles and every single lab notebook I've produced while I've been here. There are half a dozen textbooks, too, and a fresh pad of graph paper. Hell, I even grabbed my dry erase board from my office.

My phone is off, my TV unplugged, and I have enough Fritos and Mountain Dew to survive for a week. The freezer is stocked with Hot Pockets, and for a treat on Sunday, I've even got one of my mother's pot pies.

I'm ready.

Ready to make physics my bitch.

And for the most part, that's exactly what I do. Taking a machete to all of my assumptions, I make lists of possible angles of attack. Absolutely nothing is sacred. For hours, I scratch out idea after idea, diving into the code for my simulations and cross-referencing with my notes and my database of articles.

At about nine o'clock at night, I come back up for air. I've narrowed my list down to five main areas, and I'm running high on adrenaline and not a small amount of caffeine.

I can do this.

I know I can.

While a couple hot pockets are cooking in the microwave, I turn on my phone and check my email.

Then I hear a ding.

And another.

And another.

Before I even wake up my phone's screen, before I even look at it, my gut fills with a foreboding feeling.

Six missed calls. Thee voicemails. One email. Four texts.

All from Bella.

I scroll through the list of texts, seeing just the first line of every one.

_I'm so sorry to bother you but I'm…_

_When you get this, please call me…_

_I don't know who else to turn to…_

_Edward, it's my dad…_

I hit cancel on the microwave.

And then I call her back with shaking hands.

.

.

.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Remember, people. Deep breaths.


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N: **Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a little magnet with all of my emergency numbers on it.

* * *

><p>34<p>

"Edward." Bella's voice is shaky in my ear, and I'm already looking for my shoes and keys.

"What happened?"

"My dad…" She stops and takes in the most horrible, choking sob.

"Bella—"

"He had another stroke. But he's—"

"Where are you?"

"He's fine," she sniffle-sighs.

"Is there anybody there with you?"

"Just Sue. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…"

Just her dad's nurse? Not good enough. I kick myself for turning my phone off.

I pull my shoes on and spot my keys right by the door. "Where are you?"

"But you have to work and— I never should have bothered you."

She's right about the first part. The work part. For the briefest fraction of a second, I glance back at everything I've been working on. Everything I have to do.

I remember my mother's warning.

But there's no question. There are things I've wanted all my life, and there are things I want more. Things I _need_ to do.

Things you'd never let the person you love face alone. Never.

"Bella. Where are you?"

"University Hospital," she finally whispers. "ER."

I calculate, then tell her, "I'll be there in fifteen."

I hang up before she can protest anymore. As a concession, I grab my pile of notes from the evening, my laptop and a couple of my notebooks, and I cram them in my backpack. I put on my coat, and then I'm gone.

#

The streets pass by in a blur, and before I know it, I'm following the bright red signs to the emergency room, pushing through the doors to the waiting room. Inside, there are dull blue chairs and pastel walls, but I don't _see_ them.

All I see is her.

She's tiny, all folded up on herself, arms crossed over her chest and feet tucked underneath her. She studies the floor, bites her nails. I've never seen her look so _small_.

The door swings closed behind me, and she looks up.

And I want to hold her. I want to hold her forever.

Her whole face crumples as she staggers to her feet. Before she can rise fully, I cross the room to her. I pull her into my arms and rock her back and forth, breathing her in.

On an exhale, I murmur, "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," she whispers, shivering. Pulling back, she looks into my eyes with swimming brown ones. "You're here."

"Of course I am."

"Th-thank you."

She wraps her arms around my neck and clings, like she's been drowning. All I can do is hold on to her, try my best to help her float. "It's okay," I tell her. "It's all going to be okay."

I don't know how much time goes by, but eventually she loosens her grip and takes one arm back to swipe her hand across her face. Sucking in a few steadying breaths, she steps back. "I'm so glad you're here."

I've never wanted so badly to tell her that I love her and that there's nowhere else I'd rather be. But it's not the time and it's not the place. Anyway, the way she's holding onto my hand, I think she knows. I guide her to sit down, then take the seat beside her, setting my bookbag down by my feet. "Tell me what happened?"

"I don't even know," she chokes out. "I was making dinner, and he... I heard something. I thought he had fallen, or… I just found him in the living room, and he wouldn't talk to me. I called 911, and…"

A warm voice interjects. "You did everything right, Bella."

I look up, surprised to find Sue sitting across from us, her face as drawn as Bella's, her hands clasped in her lap. Unlike the couple of times I've seen her at Bella's house, she's out of her nurse's uniform and dressed in regular street clothes.

And then it occurs to me: Bella said _she_ found her dad. And Sue isn't wearing her nurse's uniform.

The gears are turning in my head.

Bella nods at Sue but turns to me to explain, her voice tighter than it was a few seconds before. "While I was waiting for the ambulance, I tried to call you. When I couldn't get a hold of you, I didn't know what to do. So I called Sue."

I look at the woman across from us again. Keeping my voice neutral, I say, "It was good of you to come."

"Of course."

There's a look of understanding between the two of us. Some sort of quiet clarity as I realize there's more to this than just concern about a patient. As she acknowledges I'm right.

And then the moment's gone. I'm grateful for Sue's presence, but I'm really here for Bella. I squeeze her hand and ask, "Have they come out to tell you anything yet?"

"Yeah." She nods and tucks her feet back underneath herself again, but instead of curling up on herself completely, she leans into me. Exactly the way I would have wanted her to. "There was a doctor here just a few minutes before you called. They said he'd…" She sniffles and breathes out slowly. "He'd had another stroke. But a smaller one this time. They think he'll be okay, but they're still running tests. They said I can go in and see him soon."

"That's good." It has to be. Right?

Without warning, she presses her face into my shoulder and lets out a sob that makes my heart ache.

"I was so scared," she whispers.

And it's like there's only the two of us here in the room. Me and my brave, strong, beautiful girl.

My girl who needs me.

I wrap my arms around her and pull her close, silently shielding her from prying eyes and pressing my lips against her hair. I whisper nonsensical reassurances, and I hold her.

And most importantly, she lets me.


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N: **Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a plate of stale cookies.

* * *

><p>35<p>

"Isabella Swan?"

Bella and I look up as one. We've been sitting there, curled around each other, hardly talking, hardly moving except to comfort and be comforted for almost an hour now.

At the door, there's a tired-looking woman in scrubs and a stethoscope, a chart in her hand. I hold my breath and wrap my arm around Bella as we rise to our feet.

"Here," I say.

The doctor nods and smiles as she walks over to us. It's a real smile. A smile that means good news, and I take a deep breath for the first time all night, truly believing, finally, that the reassurances I've been whispering may be true.

"How is he?" Bella asks, leaning heavily on me, her voice fraught with exhaustion.

"Your father's vitals are good. Based on the tests we've done, we think the damage was minimal."

I interrupt, asking, "When will she be able to see him?"

The doctor smiles at me. "They're moving him up to the ICU right now. As soon as he's settled, you'll be able to go in. As a warning, though, he's been in and out of consciousness, so he may not be responsive when you go in. But we have every reason to believe that he should be able to make a full recovery."

At those words, Bella shakes and presses her hand to her mouth. In and amongst all the noises she's making, I think I hear her thanking the doctor. I wrap my arms more tightly around her and voice our gratitude myself. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome. We'll get you folks moved upstairs, and with any luck you should be able to see her father soon."

I nod in acknowledgement, listening carefully as we're given instructions for where to go and what to do. But it's all automatic. I'm only functioning because Bella needs me to.

She and Sue and I gather our things and go where we're told. Fortunately, we're not left waiting long. Only a few minutes after arriving at the waiting room for the ICU, a nurse appears and offers to take Bella to see Charlie.

I rise with her, keeping my arm around her all the while. Just so there's no misunderstanding, I tell Sue, "We'll be right back."

Sue wrings her hands but nods.

Arm in arm, Bella and I follow the nurse through doors and down corridors before arriving at the entry to a darkened room, divided by a curtain. The nurse pauses and turns to us. "Remember, he needs to rest, and he's been through a lot. He's sleeping now..."

Quietly, I answer, "We understand."

She leads us past the first bed and to the edge of the curtain, then stands aside.

And for a second, it's hard to remember that this is the same man who was cleaning his guns and threatening me just a few weeks earlier – the one I was terrified of. There in that hospital bed, eyes closed, connected to so many tubes, he's just a man, frail and pale.

Just a man.

Just my lover's father.

Just my friend.

Bella stifles a soft squeak and curls her hand into a tight fist at my side. I keep her close. Keep her upright. Together, we make our way over to his bedside, where she reaches out a trembling hand to touch him.

"Oh, Daddy," she whispers. Running her fingers up and down his arm, she lets silent tears run down her face. "It's going to be fine. It's all going to be fine."

I don't know if she's telling herself or him or me.

For a second, I consider offering to leave, to give them some privacy, but the way she's holding on to me, it's clear she wants me here. And in this moment, I'd deny her nothing.

So I stand there and support her, emotionally and physically. I watch her father's sleeping face and try not to listen too closely as she talks to him about how much she needs him.

After a few minutes, the nurse clears her throat. I turn my head and catch her eyes, see her hold up a single finger and I nod.

"Bella?"

"Okay. Okay."

She doesn't say anything else, but nor does she make any motion to go. I let my eyes drift back up to Charlie's face, and quietly say, "We'll see you again soon, sir. You just concentrate on getting better."

The only answer is the silence.

With my heart in my throat, I tug at Bella's side. She moves reluctantly, but without too much effort, I get her turned around, and as one we head back to the waiting room.

Sue stands the instant we walk back through the door.

"How is he?"

Bella's sagging against me, so I answer for her. "He's resting. But he looks good."

Sue breathes out an exhausted sigh, then her eyes dart from the nurse's to Bella's to mine. "Is there any way…?"

To my surprise, Bella answers for herself. "Of course, Sue. He'd want to see you."

And there's that same look of understanding. Whatever's going on, Bella knows about it, too.

The nurse leads Sue back, and Bella and I take up our seats again. Sue isn't gone long, though, and when she returns, it's with a doctor we haven't seen before.

This one, too, is all exhausted smiles and handshakes and explanations of what he assures us is good news.

I work hard to pay attention, but I'm only catching so much until the end. With his chart clasped in front of him, he tells us, "We really won't know anything more until tomorrow, though. If I were you, I'd head home for the night and get some rest."

He waits for someone to acknowledge him, his stance making it clear that he needs to get back to his work.

When no one else speaks up, I meet his eyes. "Thank you, doctor."

He nods and goes.

And then it's the three of us, all standing there, unsure.

Sue gives a tight smile and touches Bella's arm. She looks so much better, now that she's seen him. Now that Bella _let_ her see him. "I think the doctor's right."

Bella nods woodenly.

Slinging her purse higher on her arm, Sue asks, "Is there anything else you need?"

"No," Bella replies. "We're all right."

"Okay. Please, call me if you do?"

"We will," I promise her.

She heads out, leaving me and Bella alone. I hug her close and tuck her head beneath my chin, wishing I could hold onto every part of her. That I could protect her from this. From everything.

"What do you want to do?" I ask.

"I don't know. What do you think?"

I consider for a second. Part of me is just as torn as she is, but for her sake, I make a decision. "I think you're dead on your feet. Let me get you home."

She nods tightly, but doesn't let me go. Keeping one arm wrapped around her the entire time, I grab our coats and her purse. When I lift my backpack to my shoulder, I chuckle ironically. It seems ridiculous to have brought it now. My chest twinges with anxiety as I recognize the choice I'm making. What I may be giving up.

But it's worth it. To me.

As I try to help her into her jacket, she stops me, grabs my sleeve.

"Edward?"

"Yes?"

She looks up at me with the saddest, most exhausted eyes.

"Please," she says. "I don't want to be alone."

For the first time all night, I kiss her mouth, then promise her, quietly, "You won't be."


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. Among the other things I don't own? A medical degree.

Thanks to miaokuancha for pointing out errors I'd made in describing Charlie's care.

* * *

><p>36<p>

The ride back to her place is quiet. I only ask a couple questions, making sure this is where she wants to go. I'm worried that seeing the place where she found him will upset her or that she'll feel compelled to clean up or something, but I understand the benefits of sleeping in your own bed, surrounded by your own things.

Once inside, she starts to head straight to her bedroom, but I stop her, tugging at her hand. "When's the last time you ate?"

"I'm not hungry." She shivers.

"Bella."

With a sigh, she turns and admits, "Lunch? Maybe?"

It's after midnight. Again, I curse myself for not being there for her earlier. For not taking care of her.

"Come on." I steer her toward the kitchen, but then I see all the stuff still sitting on the counter. And I can picture it, see her standing there, laughing and smiling and chopping up something entirely too healthy.

I remember the look of horror on her face the last time Charlie fell.

"Here." Making a quick course correction, I lead her to the dining room table instead, pull out a chair for her and get her to sit.

In the kitchen, I open up the fridge and look for something to get some sugar into her. There's not a lot that fits the bill, but after hesitating for a minute, I pour her a glass of juice and bring it to her. She takes it without saying anything, and I linger for a minute, rubbing her shoulders and kissing her cheek.

To the best of my ability, I clean up whatever she was making earlier, then go digging for something simple. Fortunately, she has the makings for sandwiches. Even I can do sandwiches.

I bring a plate with them out to her and sit down beside her. Nudging her to take one, I grab one for myself and dig in. She picks up hers and takes a few tentative bites, chewing and staring blankly forward. Every now and then, I reach out and touch her hand, but I let her keep her silence.

Until she breaks it.

"I thought he was doing so well," she says quietly. There's an edge of emotion to her voice, like when she broke down in the waiting room, and I brace myself.

"Sometimes you never know."

"I feel like I should have."

"Hey." I stroke her cheek and run my fingers down her arm to hold her hand. "You did everything right. No one could possibly have taken better care of him than you do."

Shaking her head, she drops the uneaten half of her sandwich and rests her head in her hand. "I've been so stressed out. And distracted." She shoots me a meaningful look. It makes me swallow.

I'm a distraction.

I ball my hands up into fists and remind myself she's grieving. That I'm stressed out and exhausted, and overreacting won't do me any good.

Resolving not to take her words too much to heart, I reach out. "Bella…"

"What if I missed the signs, or…"

"Bella, you're only human," I say, my throat tight. "Even Sue said you did everything right."

At that, a dry laugh escapes her throat. "Don't even get me started on Sue."

I sit back in my chair and sigh, running a hand through my hair. "Yeah."

"I called her in a panic, and I didn't even think about what it meant that she came right over until…until she started crying."

"You think…?"

Bella shakes her head and fidgets, running a finger around the rim of her glass. "She said she cared a lot about him. I didn't press. But I assume. God, how did I not know any of this was going on?"

"You have a lot on your plate."

"That's no excuse."

"Hey." I wait until she looks at me, then I squeeze her hand, rubbing her palm with my thumb. "This is not your fault."

Her lower lip trembles. "But what if—"

Oh, God. She thinks this is her fault.

Speaking more firmly this time, I insist, "This. Is. Not. Your. Fault."

"I—"

"It's not your fault."

I'm out of my chair and wrapping my arms around her before she can give in to the first sob. I hold her and rock her and tell her over and over again that she did her best and it was all she could do.

"It's not your fault, sweetheart. It's not."

Eventually, she calms down and pulls away. I gesture at what's left of the food and ask her if she's done. She got about half of it down, which I figure is good enough. Leaving the dishes for later, I lead her to the bathroom and watch as she washes up mechanically.

In her room, she strips down to a blue tank top and little purple panties, then does that trick where she gets her bra off without taking off any more of her clothes.

I hover at the door.

"Do you want—I could—"

I'm about to offer to go sleep on the couch or something, but she crawls into bed and turns back the covers on my side, mumbling, simply, "Come here."

I turn off the lights and take off my glasses and shoes and jeans, then slide in behind her. She presses back against me, and when I pull her into my arms, she places her hand over mine to keep me close.

And that's how we fall asleep. Hand in hand. Heart to heart.


	37. Chapter 37

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a pretty complicated coffee maker.

* * *

><p>37<p>

In the morning, we wake early. While Bella takes a shower and gets dressed, I try to figure out how to work her coffee maker. Fortunately, I'm good at that sort of thing. She emerges, wet-hair tied up in a twist, to find me standing at the counter, a mug already poured for her, three different kinds of cereal all laid out.

Because cereal? I can do cereal.

She protests, saying she just wants to get to the hospital, but I insist, refusing to take her until she gets something down. We eat together in companionable silence, standing next to each other at the counter, legs touching.

And it's something entirely different somehow. It feels like we're not just a girlfriend and a boyfriend, not just colleagues or friends. No matter how rough last night was – hell, maybe _because_ of how rough last night was – it feels like we're a unit now. Partners.

After cleaning up, we head to the hospital. In the light of day, it's a different place, bustling with activity. The waiting room is full of people, and when we ask to see Charlie, we're shown in right away.

And when we see him, propped up in bed, eyes open, smile weak but there, it's like the weight of the world is being lifted. Bella clasps her hand over her mouth and runs to him, all but throwing herself at him and wrapping her arms around his neck. He pats her back and tells her in a gruff, low voice, that he's fine, but she fusses all the same.

Still holding her, he looks up and catches my eye. Silently, he mouths, "Thank you."

I just nod.

From there, the day passes by in a blur. We're ushered out from time to time when doctors need to run tests or do exams, and Sue shows up a little before noon. Bella and I stand aside and let her get to Charlie's bed, where she takes his hand in hers and gives him a soft kiss on the forehead. And he relaxes in a way he hasn't all day.

I tug on Bella's arm and tell her dad and Sue that we're going to go get some coffee. Bella narrows her eyes at me, but follows along without too much of an argument. Even she admits they deserve a little bit of privacy.

More than anything else, though, we wait. Wait for test results. Wait for Charlie to wake up when he nods off. Wait to wait. In the sporadic bits of downtime, I get out my laptop and try to do a little work, but it's hard to concentrate with all that's going on. Bella tells me more than once that I can go, but there's a neediness to her eyes, belying her words. In the end, I stay put.

I take care of my girl. Hold her hand. Make her eat.

And while her words from the night before – the ones about being 'distracted' – still linger in my head, she doesn't seem to be planning to push me away. If anything, she's looking at me with an expression that I could swear reflects back everything I feel.

Everything.

Finally, at nine o'clock at night, the nurses tell us visiting hours are over, and we all say our goodbyes. Charlie looks exhausted even though he slept half the day. Holding onto Bella's hand, he tells her to go and get some rest. She kisses his cheek and promises she will.

Then his eyes lock on mine.

"Make sure she does now, you hear?"

I don't miss the tacit acceptance in his words. He knows I'm not going to let her sleep alone.

"You can count on it, sir."

He mumbles something too low for me to hear.

"Excuse me?" I ask.

His eyelids drift open and his gaze connects with mine. He coughs, then says, louder, "Think it's time you started calling me Charlie."

"Okay." I smile. "Charlie."

#

The ride home tonight couldn't be more different than the one we shared yesterday. Bella is positively…chatty, going on about everything her dad said, how he looked and how Sue acted, on and on and back and forth. I grin and agree with pretty much everything says, I'm just so relieved to see her acting more like herself.

We make a quick pit stop at my place so I can pick up some clothes, then head to her house. We go about the routines that are starting to become familiar now that we've done them together a couple of times.

After I've brushed my teeth, I head to her room, where I find her sitting cross-legged in the middle of her bed. As is her wont, she's hardly dressed, and unlike last night, I'm self-possessed enough to notice how long her legs look, how smooth that pale, soft flesh.

Self-conscious of my aroused state, I tug at my shirt as I go to unbuckle my belt and take my jeans off so I can join her. Just to sleep, I remind myself. Just to sleep.

But before I can undress, she climbs off the bed and comes to stand before me, puts her hand on my wrist to stop me.

I swallow hard. Maybe she doesn't want me to sleep here? I shouldn't have assumed…

I re-buckle, but she shakes her head and runs her hands up my arms.

"Edward…"

"Yes?"

She's looking down, staring at her hands on mine.

Surely she can't miss the way I'm pressed against the fabric of my jeans.

"I just…" She pauses, then looks up, gazing deep into my eyes. "I just want to thank you. So much. Everything you've done…"

My face softens. "Bella, of course."

"No," she says, shaking her head. "Let me just…" She takes a deep breath in and then exhales it slowly. "I've been doing this on my own now for a couple years. I thought I could…that I could do it all by myself. And then you…" Her voice trails off, her eyes darting away and then back. Her fingers tighten around mine. "Thank you. I don't know what I would have done without you."

I lean in and kiss her lips, pull my hands out from under hers to rest them on her hips. "I was happy to. It's what you do for…"

I stop, the words right there on my tongue.

It's the time. And it's the place.

Steeling myself, I close my eyes and rest my forehead against hers. "It's what you do for the people you love."

Her mouth meets mine the instant the word escapes my lips, a kiss so lush and tender, it melts me. Puts me back together after my fear of telling her threatens to tear me apart.

A low shudder rushes up my spine, and I start speaking again, the words tumbling out. "I know we haven't been together long. And you don't have to say anything back-"

I'm interrupted by her finger on my mouth, by the sight of her smile, glowing and soft.

"Shh," she tells me, then kisses me again. When she pulls back, she whispers, "I love you, too."

I press my love into her skin, grasping so tightly at her hips and pulling her flush against my chest. My lips sweep over hers again and again.

"I love you," I breathe between kisses. "I love you so much."

And then we're moving, walking backwards toward her bed. When her legs hit the mattress, she stops. And with her hands on either side of my face, she draws back enough to look at me.

"Edward?" she whispers. "Will you make love to me?"


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a plan for this story.

PS - I know you guys are worried about Stringward's school stuff. Hang on just a little bit longer and let him enjoy this, please?

* * *

><p>38<p>

For a few seconds, I can hardly react, can hardly breathe.

Did she actually—Does she really? _Me_?

The soft brushing of her lips against mine brings me back to myself, and I slide my hands up and down her sides nervously.

"You're sure?"

While this may be my first time, she doesn't exactly let many guys share this with her.

God, I want to share this with her.

She nods and looks up at me, her fingertips stroking my throat. "So sure. If you—"

I pull her into a kiss deep enough to drown in. "I want to. I want…" After swallowing deeply, I admit, "I want you to be my first."

I don't tell her I want her to be my only. But I do.

She pulls me down with her to the bed and helps me off with my clothing. As I let her undress me, I'm a tumbled mess of love and desire, nerves and want.

Uncertainty

I don't know how to make this good for her.

"I probably won't—" _Last long. Make you come. Be any good._

"Shh. It'll be wonderful. Because it'll be with you."

My nerves slide away along with the last of my clothes. I'm naked before her in so many ways.

But she takes good care of me. Just the way I've worked so hard to care for her.

"You're beautiful," she whispers. She curls a soft hand around me and strokes just a couple of times, pulling long, low moans from my throat. It feels so good.

Too good.

Pushing her hand away, I reach up and slide the strap of her top down, moving to press soft kisses against her collar bone, and once it's revealed, to her breast. Together, we pull her top off, and then with shaky hands, I push the fabric of her panties down her legs.

Breaking the kiss, I prop myself up on one elbow to just look at her.

She's all soft lines and full curves, imperfect and yet perfect, too. I take one fingertip down her ribs, over the roundness of her belly and to her hip, then slide along her thigh.

"I've never seen anything more beautiful," I tell her, awed.

She smiles and I dart my gaze back to her face. Reaching toward my temples, she touches the frames of my glasses. "Can I?"

I nod and let her slip the lenses from my eyes, glad I took the moment to really look at her before the world goes fuzzy. She sets my glasses on her bedside table, then shifts until the full length of her body is pressed to mine. There's so much naked skin, so much to feel, and the softness of her thigh pressed against me where I'm aching for her.

I've never felt so much _girl_ before.

"God, Bella," I moan as I pull her into my arms, sweeping my hand over her backside and then along her leg, sliding around to trace the front of her thigh back up. When I touch the soft, wet place between her legs, I grunt, _knowing_. Knowing she'll let me be inside of her. That I'll get to feel her. Love her.

Be part of her.

"I want you so much," I whisper. I kiss her more deeply then and slip my fingers over silky skin and up to her clit. "Can I—?" My voice is gruff. "I want to make you come first."

She moans and lets me touch her. She touches me too. Probably all too aware that this will be over before it's begun if she doesn't, she leaves the space between my hips alone, keeping her fingertips to the planes of my chest, my legs and spine.

Just when she starts to breathe hard, making the soft, sexy noises that I recognize now as a sign she's about to come, she reaches down and stills my hand. Kissing my throat and then up to my ear, she breathes, "I want to come with you inside."

I bite the inside of my cheek and my cock bobs with the sheer pressure of her words. I feel the head pressing against her skin, and I look down, watch my length contract. A glistening thread connects my tip to her flesh.

The sight of my fluid on her skin makes me throb.

"Howw—?" I ask.

She shifts, pulls me on top of her and spreads her legs so I lie between them. Underneath me, I can see her sex spread open for me, the soft pink, so wet. So wet for _me_.

My voice cracks when I ask, "Protection?"

She touches my face, pulls my gaze back to her eyes. "I'm protected. But if you want, I have condoms."

If I – If I _want._

My mind boggles.

"And if I don't want?"

She doesn't answer, just puts her hand on my hip and pulls me closer until we're pressed together as intimately as two people can be without making love. My face is hovering just over hers, our foreheads and noses brushing, lips so close. "Then… just like this."

She tilts her hips, and I slide along the slick valley, surrounded by silky flesh, my underside pressed against her opening, and I – I can't – I look down between us and it's almost too much.

"You're sure?"

She kisses me, then reassures me, "I want to feel you, Edward. Inside me."

_Oh, God._

I lift my hips and feel the head slide along her, down to a place where I just seem to _fit_. Bracing myself on my elbows, I look into her eyes and whisper, "I love you."

"I love you, too."

She slips a hand between us and grasps me gently, placing me where I need to go.

And there are no more questions. No more doubts.

So slowly, so carefully, I push.

The moan that escapes my lips is inhuman as I sink into perfect heat, soft wetness. Pleasure and her body and—

"_Bella_." Her one hand threads through my hair while the other urges my hips to keep pressing, until I'm consumed. Hips to hips, body to body. Mouth to mouth.

_Inside_ her.

"Oh my God, Bella." I drop my head to the pillow beside hers, and she wraps her legs and arms around me, keeping me close.

And I know why I waited. I know why.

This moment could never be so perfect as it is with her.

"You feel so good," she whispers in my ear, and I groan. A whole new spectrum of pleasure opens up beneath me as I draw back and push forward again. Bella's little gasp tells me it feels good to her, too, but I can't imagine. If she feels even half as much as I do—

"Nothing," I murmur. "Nothing's ever. Fuck, Bella, inside you, it's…"

"Tell me."

"So warm and wet and…" There are no more words. None. And so I kiss her instead, moving inside of her in slow, shallow strokes, trying to keep myself together.

With gentle touches, she teaches me how to make love to her. A hand on my hip. A nudge with her thigh. A gasp and a whisper of my name as she grasps me tighter.

After I don't even know how long, after pressing into her so deeply and then retreating again and again and again, I feel the pressure building beyond my ability to control. Slick with sweat and desperate, I press my mouth to hers, then beg, "I want to feel you, baby."

She slides a hand between us, and I'm almost overcome, just with the knowledge that she's touching herself while I'm _inside_. Her other hand constricts around the nape of my neck, nails digging in, and her eyes clench shut.

"Edward," she breathes.

"Bella."

"Ed_ward_." Her voice is breathier now, and my need is so great, everything ready to burst. Then her head tips back, the long line of her throat exposed. Her legs tighten around me and she screams my name again.

With the most shocking relief, with heat and love and the unbearable sensation of her body squeezing me, I let go then, press my open mouth to her cheek, my forehead to her pillow.

And I pour myself into her.

Heart thundering, everything liquid and my body pulsing into hers, I come inside her.

I become one with her.

And even then, gasping through the glow, I know that nothing will ever, ever be the same.


	39. Chapter 39

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own Stringward.

For those of you wondering, our lovebirds finally, ahem, consummated on Saturday night.

* * *

><p><strong>Standard Model:<strong> A theory that explains how the forces that govern subatomic particles relate to each other. It includes twelve fundamental particles – the up, down, top, bottom, charm and strange quarks (which are the building blocks for neutrons and protons), electrons, muons and taus, and electron neutrinos, muon neutrinos and tau neutrinos. It explains the forces between these particles as being caused by the exchange of force carrier particles called gauge bosons. Most famous among these gauge bosons is the Higgs boson, which scientists around the world have been desperately trying to prove the existence of for years now.

While the Standard Model has stood the test of time remarkably well, it will forever be remembered as the physics theory developed by a bunch of crazy (but clearly brilliant) hippies. I mean, those quark names? Really? Charm? Strange?

And don't even get me started on top and bottom.

_(Then again, maybe they were less crazy hippies and more closeted slash readers…)_

* * *

><p>39<p>

I wake in a tangle of warmth and love, the first rays of sunlight streaming in through parted curtains. Naked.

Bella's naked, too.

I hum and curl myself more tightly around my girl, pressing gentle kisses to her bare neck and shoulder, my body hardening against her spine. She stretches and pushes back against me. Reaching up and over her head, she wraps an arm around my neck, and I let my hands wander, sliding over full breasts and across her navel, down her thighs and then back up.

With my arms wrapped around her from behind, I push myself against her soft backside and slip my fingers through her wetness. She moans and parts her legs.

Would she let me? Again?

Will she-?

"I want you," I whisper.

She hums and stretches, pushing her hips into my hand. God, she's sexy. "Yes, please."

I throb.

Still, there's a moment of confusion, an uncertainty about what to do or how to move. Would she want me to be on top of her again, or does she want…?

I groan when she reaches to slip my erection in between her thighs, sliding the tip against wet flesh. I bury my face against her shoulder and pant, tilting my hips, asking breathlessly, "Like this?"

"Like this." With the slightest rocking motion, she puts me to her opening. Pushes back against me.

_Heat. Slickness._

I still can't believe it when she takes me inside.

"God, Bella." I suck at the base of her neck, stroke her breast and her clit. I press forward, drowning in liquid warmth and sensation. My hips meet her backside, my body fully encased inside hers, and I stutter just breathing.

She feels so _good_.

Thrusting back against me, meeting every stroke, she hooks her leg over mine, cranes her neck to meet my lips. We kiss and love, and I touch, wanting desperately to make her come this way.

"Harder, baby," she begs. I speed my strokes, my teeth clenching at the pleasure of it, and she threads her fingers through my hair. "Yeah, just like that. Fuck. Fuck me."

Oh, God.

I clench my eyes shut, touching faster where we're joined.

Within seconds, she cries out, digs her nails into my skin, tensing everywhere. When she goes limp, gasping for air and panting out my name, I let go of restraint, thrust harder and deeper, until with a final groan I push all the way in and hold her still against me. Biting down on her shoulder, I release into her, still incapable of believing that I'm with her like this. That she lets me love her.

That she loves me.

After, I hold her close, with her on her back and me on my side. Her ribcage is my pillow, her heartbeat my world. She slides her fingers through my hair and hums.

And I don't know if I've ever been so happy.

It doesn't last forever, though.

Before long, the fog of love-making lifts, and with a wince, I remember everything that's waiting for us just beyond this door. Her father in the hospital.

My thesis.

My career.

But somehow, none of it seems insurmountable. Her father's fine; hell, he'll probably be coming home tomorrow. And as for my plans… There's a certain acceptance to me now. Like I've already pushed through, and I'm standing on the other side, trying to decide what to do next.

I'm not going to be a Ph.D.

But that's okay.

I mean, there are a lot of other really great things to be. An awesome physics teacher or someone who builds laboratory instruments.

Things could be worse, after all. I squeeze Bella tighter. A lot worse.

Finally, she starts to stir, and I lift my head off her chest to look down at her beautiful face, at her flushed lips and soft eyes. "Good morning," I whisper, sliding a finger along her chin.

She smiles and catches my hand, bringing it to her lips. "A very good morning."

"We should probably get up."

"Yup."

In spite of her agreement, she tugs me back down to lie beside her, and we stay there, snuggled and safe for a few more minutes until the restlessness starts to get to us both. In the end, she's the first to move.

"Come on." She goes to stand up, but I resist, refusing to let go of her. "Edward, we have to get to the hospital." With a scowl, her tone scolding, she adds, "And don't think I'm going to let you spend your whole day looking after me today, either. It's not going to be on me when you don't finish your presentation."

While I'm still light with acceptance, a single stone of guilt settles more heavily in the pit of my stomach. "About that…" I say slowly, letting go so she can rise.

I can't put this off any longer. There's music. And it's time for me to face it.

"Hmm?" She looks back at me from the edge of the mattress.

I rub my eyes and sit half way, then pat the bed beside me. "Can we talk? Can you just sit for a minute?"

Her eyes are worried when they meet mine, and I force myself to smile. "Everything's fine," I assure her. "Just…"

Finally, she consents to rejoin me in the bed. I reach down and grab the sheet and pull it up to cover our chests, then shift to face her. I take one of her hands in both of mine, trying to calm my nervousness.

"Bella, I…"

"One second." She holds up a finger and looks down at her lap. "Just so you know, if you break up with me right now, I will let my father shoot you."

She thinks—_What?_

I actually laugh out loud.

"God, no." Her mouth is so perfect and pouty, I can't help but lean in and kiss it. I take her face between my hands, and this time my smile is real. "Never, Bella. Never."

She shivers, but I think it's a good shiver. "Okay. So…?"

I lean back and drop my hands between us. "Bella, about my presentation."

"Your…" Her expression is so confused. "Your presentation?"

"Yeah." I take a deep breath, then bite the bullet and go for it. "It's just…it's not going to be done."

Her head jerks up. "What do you mean?"

"It's not going to be done because I haven't started it."

"How-?"

"I haven't started it yet because my research is…a disaster."

It actually feels kind of good to say this out loud.

She furrows her brow. "I don't understand. I thought you were doing so well."

"No." My chuckle surprises even me. "I haven't been. Not in a long time. It's just gotten worse and worse recently. I've talked to my advisor about it and everything. The project's rubbish. And chances are…I'm not going to pass my qualifier."

I brace myself and wait for her reaction. Only she doesn't say anything.

The bottom of my stomach falls out, and for a second, I wonder if maybe I was right. If my getting kicked out of the program would be a deal-breaker for her.

But she said she loved me…

"Bella?" I ask, my voice a plea.

When she looks up, her face is all resolve, her jaw set. "'_Rubbish_'?" she asks incredulously.

I shrug. "Basically. None of my simulations work, all my findings are in direct opposition to the entire standard model. It's basically garbage."

"But how is that possible? There's got to be—"

"There isn't," I assure her quietly. "And even if there was, time's up. This weekend was my last chance to make it work."

Her face falls, her cheeks suddenly draining of color. "And you didn't. Because of me."

"Don't you even dare." I take her hands in mine. "This is all me. And I wouldn't change a thing. Not a single thing." I take a deep breath. "I love you, Bella. You're my first priority. And my whole plan of fixing everything in one weekend… it was just as ridiculous as everything else. I've accepted that." Capturing her gaze, I swallow hard. "Can you?"

"No," she says, and my heart falls. "Absolutely not. Oh, Edward, why didn't you tell me this weeks ago? It's not going to be easy now."

_What?_

"Not going to be…"

"Okay," she says, lifting both my hands and kissing my knuckles before letting go and scrambling out of bed. "Here's what we're going to do." She starts counting on her fingers, all business.

And naked.

She's still naked.

"First," she says, "you'll take me to the hospital. My car's still there, but I can deal with everything from there."

"Your car?"

She looks over at me like I'm five steps behind. Which I am. "Of course. How else am I going to get around without you?"

"Without me?" My voice squeaks.

And my calm acceptance is slipping.

If she doesn't want me anymore…that changes things.

"Obviously. _You_, mister, are going back to your place, and you're not coming out until we've figured out what's wrong."

_We?_

"Bella…"

Fire flashes in her eyes.

"Don't even think about saying no." She puts her hands on her hips, and even naked, she looks _fierce_. Smiling brilliantly, she insists, "This time it's finally _my_ turn to help _you_."


	40. Chapter 40

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a case of Fat Tire (my personal favorite, as beers go).

* * *

><p>40<p>

An hour later, we pull up in front of the hospital. She leans across the console to peck me on the mouth, then pulls back with a smile. "Remember, now, head straight home and get to work."

"Bella…" I grab her hand, my stomach still doing flip-flops. "Are you sure…"

"Yes."

"_Bella._ I mean, are you sure…" I glance at the entrance and say the first of so many doubts. "Are you sure you don't want me to come in with you?"

"I already talked to the nurse on the phone. He's fine. So I'm fine."

She goes to pull away again, but I don't let go. "Are you sure…" I suck in a lungful of air and force myself to voice the thing that's really bugging me. "If I can't figure things out with my thesis…"

"You will," she says, smiling and squeezing my hand.

But that's the problem.

"But if I _don't_."

I finally have her attention. She shifts back around in her seat, lifting her other hand to touch my cheek. "You will. And if you don't, well…"

I hold my breath.

"Well," she says again, showing me another smile that's not quite so wide but which somehow seems more real. "Then we'll figure that out." She squeezes my hand. "Together."

A lead weight lifts off my chest. "Promise?"

"Absolutely." Leaning in, she gives me a more lingering kiss, one filled with heat and promise and with the curling of her lips into a grin. "Now go."

When she pulls away, I'm grinning, too. "Okay."

She opens the door and steps out, but just before slamming it closed, she ducks down and catches my eye. "Love you. No matter what."

"Love you, too."

#

Back at my apartment, I set out my books and boot up my computer. I really don't have any more of a clue than I did on Friday, but there's a different energy to the air. Instead of desperate, I'm just…ready.

Bella believes in me.

Bella _slept_ with me.

And for the moment, I believe in me, too.

For the first couple of hours, I mostly just retrace my steps, getting my head back into the game. Unwilling to repeat my mistake from last time, I make sure my phone is on, and my eyes flit over to it from time to time, checking to make sure I haven't missed anything.

Once I've gotten the lay of the land again, I start digging deep into some of the math that's the foundation for all my simulations. Instead of just checking for little errors, though, I'm looking for big ones. For first-principle assumptions that could be off.

Sometime in the early afternoon, I'm knee-deep in equations when I'm dragged out of my thoughts by the sound of the buzzer for the front door. My eyebrows draw together, and it takes me a second to figure out what's going on.

I'm not expecting anyone.

Except—

But shouldn't she be with her father?

I put down my notebook and jump up, hissing as blood flows back into my painfully-asleep left leg. In what I can only assume is a comically clumsy dance, I hop over to the intercom and press the button and say, "Hello?"

Even fuzzed with static, there's no mistaking Bella's voice. "It's me. Can I come up?"

"Of course."

Beaming and hopeful, I press the button to unlock the front door, then hobble over to open the one for my apartment. With my leg still tingling from the knee down, I'm not exactly swift about it though, and by the time I get the bolt undone and pull the door open, Bella's already standing there, looking beautiful. Looking like my salvation.

Then she steps aside. And right behind her is damnation.

"Hey, Eddie. Nice place."

What.

The.

Fuck.

Jasper slips past me, wearing an obscene T-shirt and carrying two pizza boxes. For a second I just stand there, gawking after him. When I turn back to the door to ask Bella what's going on, I encounter a big, blue wall.

That or Emmett's standing in my doorway.

"Hey, Edward," he says. He's got a case of Sam Adams in his hand, and he holds it up. "Got room for these in your fridge?"

"Ummmm…."

"Never mind. I'll make room."

He pushes past me, leaving me to do my best gasping fish impression, turning my head from the sight of Jasper putting his feet up on my couch to Emmett rooting through my fridge, finally back to Bella who's still standing out in the hall.

She raises one tentative hand and gives me a cringing smile. "So, um. I hope you don't mind. I may have brought some friends."

"These guys are your _friends_?"

"Well, they are now." She finally steps into my space and puts her hands on my chest. I look down at her, still not sure what to think. "And I may owe them free beer and pizza for the next couple months, but I got them here. And they want to help." Her index finger reaches up to stroke the hollow of my throat. "Please don't be mad."

At her?

How could I be?

I sigh and pull her closer, swinging the door closed behind us. For a second, I just hold her.

I'm embarrassed. Mortified that I can't do this myself.

But I'm also so, so relieved to not have to face it alone.

"Thank you," I murmur, squeezing her tighter, getting lost in the moment – in my love and in my gratitude.

Right up until Jasper speaks up. "Uh uh uh, no way. We're here to bail Eddie out, not watch you two _make_ out."

I shake my head and look up at him. He's grinning and making lewd gestures, and he's got his feet on my couch. But he's here.

And it's time for me to admit that I need all the help I can get.

#

For the next two hours, I go over everything with them. We plow through one entire pizza and half of the next one, making a dent in the case of beer, but a small one. Getting drunk is not even on the table as an option.

Once I finish explaining what I've done and where I'm at, everyone leans back as if with one big, collective sigh.

"Jesus, Edward," Emmett says, scratching his head. "How long have you been stuck on this?"

My cheeks heat up. "I've been making progress, but I keep running into dead ends."

"How long?"

"A while," I admit.

"Why didn't you talk to one of us? We're all on the same team, you know? We would have been happy to help."

When he puts it like that, it's embarrassing that I held onto this for so long. My eyes dart to Bella's to find her gazing at me compassionately. Encouraging me.

I rake my hands through my hair and look up. "Because I'm a proud, stubborn idiot?"

Jasper laughs. "Well, at least he admits it."

"The question," Bella says, interrupting, "is how we're going to figure this out. Edward presents on Wednesday and he still has to make up his presentation. But first he needs results."

Emmett slaps his hands on his thighs. As the oldest among us, he commands a certain authority. "Okay," he says. "Here's the plan."

Without hesitation, he splits up the possible avenues of inquiry among the four of us. It doesn't escape me that he gives the lion's share of it to himself and Jasper and Bella. When I start to protest, he raises a big hand. "You're bouncing between the three of us, helping us figure what you were thinking. None of us knows the particulars as well as you do. But we do have fresh eyes." His face softens. "We'll figure this out. I mean it."

I take in a deep breath and nod. "Okay."

#

At almost nine, Bella's phone rings. She looks at the screen guiltily and sneaks off to my bedroom to take the call.

I kind of love that she doesn't even ask. My home is her home now, and she knows her way around.

When she comes back, she's smiling, so I feel safe nudging her and asking who it was.

She tucks her hair behind her ear and settles back down on the floor in front of me. "Just Sue. She let me talk to my dad for a few before they kick her out for the night."

My ribs get tight. She's giving up so much to help me.

"Crap, Bella, I didn't mean for you to have to give up the whole day with him."

She just shakes her head and reaches up to kiss me firmly on the lips, holding my gaze as she chastises me. "First priority, remember?" She waves her hand between the two of us. "Just like you. Friday night. You dropped everything for me. This is me dropping everything for you."

"But your dad—"

The look she gives me is louder than if she'd actually said 'shut up'. "Sue's taking care of him. _Maybe_," she says, arching one eyebrow at me, "I'm learning to accept help from other people." She gestures meaningfully at Emmett and Jasper, both of whom are trying very hard to look as if they aren't hanging on our every word. "It's an important lesson to learn."

My dawning realization is like a light bulb going off over my head.

God, but we deserve each other. We're so alike.

I chuckle and lean in to kiss her forehead. "How did you get so smart?"

"Maybe I was born with it," she replies, her grin smug.

Jasper, of course, is the one to complete the moment, not even looking up as he sings in bright falsetto, "Maybe it's Maybelline."


	41. Chapter 41

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a copy of the presentation I gave about the summer research project I did at a particle accelerator back in the 90s. (God, I feel old.)

* * *

><p><strong>Higgs Boson:<strong> A hypothetical particle predicted by the Standard Model. Its existence would explain a number of elements of the theory, including several things that really need their own entire definition. If it doesn't exist, the Standard Model would be broken because it cannot explain why certain subatomic particles have mass.

Trying to detect the Higgs Boson has been the holy grail of high energy physics for decades now. It's incredibly difficult to detect because it has a ridiculously short lifespan; scientists are basically looking for the byproducts of its decay to try to prove it was ever there in the first place. It's also only expected to be observed at extremely high energies, requiring scientists to build bigger and bigger particle accelerators. The most recent and most famous of these accelerators is the Large Hadron Collider at CERN in Switzerland. Just last month (December 2011) some initial, promising results were released. Scientists hope to have something more conclusive to say about the matter by the end of 2012.

Knowing science, though, chances are that whatever they find will just open up more questions. Because that's the beauty of science. It never ends. There's always something more to learn and explore.

* * *

><p>41<p>

It's after midnight, and I'm both falling asleep sitting up and buzzing hard from about a dozen Mountain Dews.

I'm also ready to tear my hair out in frustration as Jasper tries to explain to me yet _again_ why he doesn't believe in the Higgs boson.

I try my best to moderate my voice, but the papers in my hand crumble with the force of my grip. "How is this even remotely relevant?"

"I'm just saying." He takes a long pull at his beer, burps and sets it down. "They built this huge collider in Switzerland just to look for the damn thing, costing billions of dollars in tax-payer money—"

"Mostly European tax-payer money," Emmett interjects.

Jasper talks right over him. "—when it may not even be detectable —"

Emmett huffs and rolls his eyes. "And if they _don't_ detect the thing, the negative result will be as much of an answer as the positive one would have been."

Suddenly, Bella slams her notebook down. She's been quiet for the past couple of hours, so all eyes go to her. Only there's not much to look at.

Well, you know. Other than the usual incredibly sexy, beautiful woman.

The woman who's staring off into space, mumbling to herself and painting numbers in the air.

I wave my hand in front of her. "Um, Bella?"

She doesn't react except to pinch her eyes shut and hold up a finger, asking for silence. Jasper opens his mouth as if to continue one of his conspiracy-theory rants, but she makes a low grunt and snaps her fingers closed in a universal sign for 'shut it'. And the girl looks like she means business. Even Jasper obeys.

Finally, after another mystifying, suspense-filled minute, she opens her eyes again and turns her head, locking her gaze with mine.

"A negative result," she says.

I stare at her, waiting for more.

In the face of my confusion, she waves her hand excitedly, as if searching for words. "You know," she adds. "A _negative_ result."

"Ummm."

A second later, she's in motion. Standing at the whiteboard propped up against my bookshelf, she grabs a marker and starts circling terms amongst the series of equations scrawled there. She's talking too fast and too low, and I can only make out the occasional phrase, but when she's done, she turns back to us, beaming. "You see?"

I strain, but it's worse than Greek to me. At least I know Greek.

"Not really."

She waves her hand excitedly in front of herself, as if summoning words. "You guys… you've been so focused on proving the theory _right_. But don't you see? You've proved it _wrong_."

I narrow my eyes at her, still not sure where she's going with this, but there's a tingling in the back of my head.

"Don't you see what that could mean?" she asks, gesturing at the board again. "I mean, high energy isn't my area, but if you can definitively say that _this_…" She points at one of the crucial equations. "…is _false_…"

And it's like a light turns on.

I sink down onto the couch.

"Holy shit."

Bella's smiling ear to ear. "I know, right?"

We all sit there in silence for about five seconds.

Emmett's the one to bring us all back. He claps his hands together and leans forward, rolling up his sleeves. "Game back on, boys," he says. "Game back on."

#

The next three hours fly by in a flurry of equations and brainstorming. Emmett and Jasper and I go through half a notebook, scrawling out one term after another, and for the first time all night, I really do feel like the expert. They help nudge me forward with ideas, but for the most part, I know what I'm talking about.

I know where this is going.

At about four in the morning, I sit back and look at the completely redone whiteboard, studying it, checking things over once, then twice. I smile and turn to Emmett and Jasper. "I think we got this," I say.

Emmett claps me on the back. "I know you do."

"Jesus." Jasper shakes his head and stands. "What I would give to be a fly on the wall when you show this to Molina. His pet project totally turned on its head? He's gonna shit a brick."

"Sure," I say. "Right up until he realizes there are five new grant proposals he can squeeze out of this." I stand up too and hold my hand out to each of them. "Thanks, you guys. I can't even tell you…"

I trail off, but it's okay. Emmett nods and shakes my hand, squeezing it hard enough to hurt. "Like I said before. We're all on the same team. I'm glad it worked out."

"Besides," Jasper says, nodding over at the couch. "We aren't even the ones you should be thanking."

I let my eyes drift over to the soft figure, breathing deeply beneath a blanket and all curled up around a pillow.

My girl.

My savior.

My sleeping beauty.

"Yeah," I sigh.

Emmett chuckles. "She's a keeper, that one."

"Tell me about it."

Only he doesn't have to. Because I know.

God, but I know.

Emmett and Jasper gather their things, and I show them to the door. Once they're gone, I turn back to the room and to the mess of graph paper sketches and paper plates and bottles. Most of it can wait, but I take a couple minutes to deal with the worst of it.

After that, I turn off all the lights save the dim one over my stove. I set the alarm on my phone for entirely too early, then, as gently as I can, I scoop my girl up into my arms and kiss her cheek. She nuzzles down into my chest, but except for a little hum, she doesn't give any signs of waking. Not when I walk her down the hall. Not when I set her down in my bed.

And not when I climb in behind her and drift off with her lying in my arms.


	42. Chapter 42

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a copy of The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy.

* * *

><p>42<p>

There's a weird buzzing sound and sun streaming in and… and it's warm. Nice and warm. And it smells like Bella.

I snuggle in closer to the heat and ignore the noises. Ignore the way the heat is groaning and batting at my pawing hands.

"Edward!"

Yup, that's my name.

"Mhmm."

"Get off!" She laughs and pushes at me, and with a grumble about how I don't wanna, I let her wriggle out from underneath my arm. Half a second later, the buzzing stops at least, so that's something.

But then there's talking. "Hey, Sue… Okay… Oh, that's great! Sure… Absolutely… What time?... Okay, I'll see you then. Thanks."

I mumble and reach across the sheets, hoping eventually my hand will connect with Bella-skin and that I can make her come back here and be my huggy-pillow. The bed dips, and her hand meets mine. I tug, but she doesn't let me pull her down.

I'm getting dangerously close to being awake.

In spite of my better judgment, I blink one eye open and glance at the clock. It's barely nine a.m., less than five hours after I finally crashed. And about one hour before my alarm is supposed to go off. I scowl and direct my gaze back at Bella. "Too early," I mumble and yank at her hand again, letting my eyes drift closed.

She leans down, and for a second I think I've won, but then there's just a brush of lips against my temple. "I've got to go."

I'm not ashamed to admit that I whine.

"Poor baby," she whispers, kissing my cheek and trying yet again to pull away.

I force both eyes open this time and groan as I roll over. "What's going on?"

"Hospital. Sue has to go to work in a couple hours, and I don't want my dad to be alone."

"Do you need me?"

She shakes her head. "Not for this. He should get discharged late this afternoon, though." Biting her lip, she gazes at me and runs her fingers through my hair. She hesitates, stops herself once before saying, quietly, "If you can spare it, I could use some help getting him home. But if not, I'd rather see you get your work done."

I force my brain to think in spite of the minimal amount of sleep I've gotten. "I need to run to campus and show all the new stuff to Molina. And I really do need to work on the presentation tonight. But I can spare a couple hours in the middle."

"If you don't mind working at my place, I can help," she offers. "I'm pretty good at PowerPoint."

Scowling, I shake my head at her. "Don't you have your own presentation to get ready?"

"Yeah, but I'm good. I promise."

I search her eyes for a few seconds. But I don't see any pride there or any lie.

It's just us. Telling each other what we actually need and what we have to do. Asking for help. And accepting it.

I hope the devil's got warm socks. Because it looks like hell might have just frozen over.

"Okay," I finally say, squeezing her hand and bringing it up to my mouth to kiss her knuckles. "Can I get a goodbye kiss?"

"Of course." She leans in and presses her lips to mine, lingering, soft and sweet. Before pulling away, she hovers just an inch above my face. "I'll call you if anything changes?"

"Sounds good."

After one more kiss, she hauls herself up off the bed, and I watch her for a minute as she puts herself together.

God, she's beautiful in the morning.

"I love you," I murmur.

"Love you, too."

#

One shower and one enormous vat of coffee later, I'm barreling into my advisor's office and flinging my new notebook down on his desk. He looks up at me in shock.

"Um, Edward?"

"Look."

It's all I've got. The only word still left.

With his eyes narrowed, he pushed back from his desk and picks up the notebook, paging through what's written there with all the urgency of a three-toed sloth. Just like the other day, there's a lot of humming and tongue-clicking. Even a little head-shaking.

And then his eyes get wide. And wider. And wider.

At some point, he looks up. "You're kidding me, right?"

"Nope." The first pang of anxiety creeps in, but I'm not going to let it take over. I know my shit.

I know it.

His eyes scan across the page again and then back up to me. He flips the page, scans and looks up. Flips. Scans. Looks up.

Finally, he hits what must be the end and slowly lays the book down on his desk, reaches up and tugs his glasses off, then massages his temple.

"You realize how much work's been invested in that line of inquiry."

"The line of inquiry you yourself said was not productive on Monday."

"But I didn't say it should be scrapped altogether. Just that the angle we were taking—"

"The angle is sound. Sir."

He stares at me with a level gaze for a long time. A long, silent, terrifying time. With a sigh, he puts his glasses back on and tilts forward in his chair to rest his elbows on his desk, hands clasped in front of him.

"Very well," he says. And then his face breaks into a genuine smile. "Sit down. Let's talk about how you're going to spin this on Wednesday, Dr. Cullen."

#

By the time I get to the hospital, Charlie's in real clothes for the first time in days, sitting on the edge of his bed and looking shaky. I sneak into the room and clear my throat before reaching out to touch Bella's arm. She starts and turns to look at me. The instant she registers it's me, her whole face melts, and she pulls me close, lets me wrap my arm around her.

We look on as the nurses help Charlie get into a wheelchair. I'd bet anything we're both thinking the same thing – that he's going to need a lot more help over the next couple of weeks. That it's going to be hard.

But I know we can do it. Together.

A nurse gives Bella a bunch of paperwork and talks some more about his follow-up schedule and expectations for his care. Bella nods a lot, like she's been through all of this before. Which she has. I keep up the best I can, wanting to know everything, to be as well-prepared as I can be to help out.

There are discussions about new medications, about a plan to get his condition back under control. About expectations for the future and how he can be as healthy as possible going forward.

At some point, the nurse says honestly, "It may also be time to think about long-term care. We can give you the names of some facilities…"

Bella gives her a tight smile and takes the papers from her hands. "I don't think we're at that point yet." She looks up a me and then back at the nurse. "I've got lots of help these days."

Yeah. She does.

As a unit, we make our way to the elevator and then downstairs. I wait with Charlie while Bella goes to drive her car around. He's unusually quiet. Withdrawn.

But once she's gone, he says my name.

"Yeah?"

"She going to be okay for that presentation of hers tomorrow?"

Through all of this, he's kept track.

"Yeah," I say with confidence. "She is."

"If I screwed this up for her…"

"You didn't." I lift my gaze to the sight of Bella's car pulling around. To the vision of her face through the windshield, determined and strong. "Believe me," I assure him. "We've got this under control."


	43. Chapter 43

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own very, very little.

Sorry for the unexpected delay. I needed a couple days to get my head on straight. Thanks for your patience.

* * *

><p>43<p>

Life at Bella's house is different that night. Bella gives her father choices, but they mostly revolve around whether he wants to lie down on the couch or in his bed. In the end, he opts for his room. I check on him there a couple of times while Bella's making dinner, but he's too tired for checkers – not too tired to mumble that he's going to trounce me as soon as he's well enough to play again, though.

Bella takes him his bowl of soup, and I excuse myself when she starts to help him feed himself. I'm here to help, sure. But the man deserves some dignity.

While she's gone, I start spreading out my work on the dining room table, getting out my laptop and my notes. I'm just about ready to get cracking when Bella returns.

"He doing okay?"

"Yeah. Says he's going to rest for a bit."

"Okay."

There's an awkward moment before she tilts her head toward the kitchen. "It's not much, but there's soup. I can make grilled cheese or something, too."

"Sounds perfect."

We move around the kitchen together and eat at the counter. Bella wants the whole scoop about how things went down with Molina, and I give it to her, listing everything we decided I should do to get ready for Wednesday.

Once we're both done, we clean up quickly and then settle in at the dining room table. I insist on Bella running through her own presentation at least once before I'll let her help with mine, and she consents. I put on headphones and bury my gaze in my computer screen, but I still can't help glancing up at her from time to time. Her eyes drift over her own screen, snapping back and forth from line to line, her perfect mouth moving the whole time as she talks to herself.

I force myself to look back at my own work, but I'm smiling, near-bursting with pride as I do.

She's going to knock their socks off.

Eventually, she slams her laptop closed and turns to me, rubbing her hands together. "Okay, I'm good. Now let's do this thing."

We figure out a way to divide up the work that doesn't feel like cheating, with me finishing up recoding some simulations while she starts typing up the presentation notes I made during my meeting with Molina. We keep on like that for a while, each working at our own screen. For the most part, we leave each other alone except for little touches. A foot against a calf. Fingertips on a knee. A kiss on my cheek every time she comes back from checking on Charlie.

When I'm done with the programming, I set the simulation to run and dive into the slides themselves, taking what Bella's typed and turning it into the narrative I need to tell. In the meantime, she whips up a pretty awesome design template for me, and when I apply it to the slides, it's with a sigh of relief. The presentation looks good. Almost professional, even.

Now all I have to do is finish it.

I keep pushing hard right up until midnight when Bella excuses herself, and for an hour after that even.

Finally, at one a.m., she comes back out, dressed in only a robe, the edges of it gapping, her long, bare legs going on for miles beneath its hem. My mouth goes dry, my jaw dropping. My hands fall away from the keyboard, too.

While I'm still too brain-scrambled to say anything, she walks over to me and bends down to peer over my shoulder at the screen.

"Everything going okay?"

I nod dumbly and lock my eyes on her breasts. If I just pulled that robe down a little…

"Ready to call it a night?"

My fingers twitch by my side, desperate to touch. But I keep my caveman instincts at bay. Barely.

Glancing at the screen, I nod again. "Yeah. Just let me finish this slide, and then…"

And then what?

Somehow, in the fog of work, I've forgotten that I'm still _here_, and that I've never slept over before while her dad's been in the house. That he threatened to shoot me that one time if I ever did.

But so much has changed since then.

Everything seems different now.

Bella seems to sense it, too. She presses a damp kiss to the corner of my mouth and cups the back of my head. "Okay," she breathes. "When you're done, come to bed?"

I swallow hard, following her with my gaze as she stands back up. "Your dad won't mind?"

"Doesn't matter if he does," she says quietly, rubbing the back of my neck. "I want you here. I _need_ you here."

My breathing stutters and my ribcage swells.

"Okay."

She turns her back on me and pads away, but I stop her at the door.

"I need you, too."

It's all I can say. All I can think. All I can feel.

She pauses and looks back over her shoulder at me with a soft smile. Then she keeps going, back into the darkness. Back to her room. Where she's waiting for me.

Barely keeping the presence of mind to finish my thought, I type out the last two lines of the slide before saving everything and backing it up. Twice. I put my computer to sleep and rise, then turn off all the lights.

When I get to Bella's room, I find her waiting for me beneath the covers, her shoulders bare. The lights dim, music playing low.

And for a moment, I forget about my work. About her dad and about…everything. Everything except the fact that it's been days since I've been inside her, and that all the stress and worry are desperate for an outlet.

That I want to lose myself.

In her.

I close the door behind me, looking to her before I flip the lock. She nods, telling me that it's okay.

When it's just her and me in that perfect space, I let my breath out, let everything melt away. She pushes the sheet down to show herself to me, all skin and curves, breasts and stomach and thighs.

She takes my breath away.

"You're so beautiful."

I move to stand beside the bed, where I shed my clothes, too. Naked, I climb up, settle myself above her.

She lifts her hand to touch my face, pulling me forward until our lips meet, wet and soft. "I love you," she whispers.

"I love you, too."

My fingers trace her skin, brushing and circling as I kiss her mouth, arousing and appreciating. She touches me in soft strokes, palms hot against my back, then a single fingertip moving along my naked length.

She parts her legs, and I reach down to place myself against her opening. With my lips still pressed to hers, I push inside, as overwhelmed by the heat and tightness of her body as I was the first time. As overwhelmed that I can feel this much. _Need_ this desperately.

Love this fully.

Slowly and sweetly, we tell each other who we are and what we mean to each other. Silently. Surely.

I give myself to her. All my vulnerability and all my flaws.

I tell her all the ways I need her, too.

And when we come together, I'm lost.

I'm lost.

I'm found.


	44. Chapter 44

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a Periodic Table jigsaw puzzle.

* * *

><p>44<p>

The next morning, I wake alone in her bed, dressed in a T-shirt and boxers. I look over at her pillow and remember how we made love.

How afterward, we dressed and unlocked the door. Just in case.

I roll to the side and stretch, then reach to the bedside table for my phone. It's still early, but I'm surprisingly alert. There's so much to do. So much to prepare.

I'm scanning through my email when the bedroom door swings open. Bella slips in, wet hair swept up in a towel, her body barely covered in her robe. When she sees me, she smiles, reaching behind her to latch the door.

"You're awake," she says as she pulls the towel from her head and drapes it on the door knob. Her hair cascades down her shoulders, wet and tousled and beautiful.

My morning erection tents the sheets, and I smirk at her as it bobs. "In more ways than one," I tease.

She rolls her eyes, but still climbs up on the bed to kiss me. I playfully tug her close to me, but I'm not surprised when she resists.

"I have to get ready," she says, one hand on my chest. "Big day today."

That's an understatement.

"I know." I let her go, shifting to prop myself up on one elbow as I watch her walk across the room to her closet. "How are you feeling?"

"Good. I ran through my presentation one last time this morning. Felt really solid."

With her back to me, she lets the robe fall to the floor.

Her confidence isn't the only thing that's solid. I shift my cock to tuck it under the waistband of my underwear, but I can't resist sliding my palm around it in a couple slow strokes as I look at her. At the taper of her waist. The curves of her backside.

"God, you look good," I murmur.

She turns around and catches me pulling my hand away from myself. For a second she looks torn. But then she drifts her gaze back to meet mine. "Later."

It sounds like a promise.

It had better be. Watching her dress is almost as much of a turn-on as watching her strip.

As I stare at her, she talks quietly about her dad and about how things have been going today. About her plans.

"I have to leave in about an hour. You're okay with checking in on my dad while you work?"

My eyes are glued to her ass as she shimmies into a knee-length skirt.

"Yeah," I mumble.

She turns and waits until she has my full attention. I force my eyes to her face instead of her boobs.

"His pills are already all laid out. Just give him the ones in the compartment that says 'lunch'."

"Lunch. Got it."

"And there's stuff for sandwiches. You can do sandwiches, right?"

"Yup."

She frowns and puts on her bra, followed by a conservative button-down shirt.

I sigh.

"You sure you're okay with all of this?"

Shaking my head to clear it of the dancing visions of naked Bella that are clouding it, I sit up in bed and push the covers away, scratch my head. "I'm good. Your dad and I get along great."

Plus, he's still too weak to wield a shotgun.

Bella stifles a laugh and steps into a pair of pointy-toed shoes that just make her legs look longer. "Sure. Tell me that again after he realizes you're still here."

Suddenly, I don't feel quite as confident.

My voice squeaks as I ask, "You didn't tell him?"

She rolls her eyes at me and comes over to peck me on the cheek. "He already saw your car. He knows. And he's fine with it."

Still, that's all the impetus I need to get dressed and out of bed. I pull on my jeans, and together, Bella and I emerge from her room and out into the house.

When we step into the living room, Charlie's lying on the sofa, looking pale but still better than he has since he first had to go to the hospital. For a minute, his eyes fix on mine, and I hold my breath. But then he sighs and sinks back into the couch.

"Good morning," he says gruffly, staring at the ceiling.

Beneath his moustache, though, I think he's smiling.

"Good morning."

Bella just laughs at us both.

#

When it's time for Bella to leave, I walk her to her car and kiss her on the cheek for luck.

"You're going to do amazing."

"Here's hoping."

I squeeze her tighter, then let her go, still standing on the porch, shivering and watching as she drives away.

Back inside, I check on Charlie and make sure he has everything he needs. He's propped a little higher and watching game shows on TV. He assures me he's fine.

For now, I take his word for it.

Coffee mug in hand, I retreat back to the dining room to check on my latest – and last – round of simulations. It's all I can do not to let out a whoop of joy when the results are exactly what I'd hoped they'd be.

Finally.

I take the time to put the output into a couple pretty-looking charts and graphs, then save the figures to insert into my presentation. From there, it's all PowerPoint all the time as I whip up slide after slide.

The only breaks I take are to get more coffee and to check on Charlie. As often as not, he's dozing. At some point he asks for water, and once, mortifyingly for both of us, he needs help getting to the bathroom. When I shuffle awkwardly at the door, he assures me in no uncertain terms that he does _not_ need me to help him piss. Then he slams the door in my face.

A minute later, he opens it again and looks down contritely as he lets me get him back to the couch.

We eat lunch together with The Price Is Right on in the background, and I give him his pills.

And then I'm back to work.

But as the afternoon drags on, my eyes dart more and more frequently to the clock and to the window.

By three, I'm officially flummoxed. Bella should have been home by now.

A hundred different worst-case scenarios run through my head. A problem with her presentation. Bad news.

Asshole committee members who put her through the ringer. Or even failed her.

A car accident. Or a zombie apocalypse.

Okay, so that last one's not too likely. But still.

Finally, her car pulls into the driveway, and while I'm heaving a sigh of relief, I'm also freaking out as I rush to save my work. I make it to the door just as she's putting her key in the lock, and I must scare the hell out of her when I yank it open right in front of her.

She teeters back and flings her hand to her chest.

But I'm undeterred. "How did it go?"

She makes my heart stop when she looks down at the ground, face hidden by her hair, looking…_defeated._

I step backward.

No way.

No fucking way.

She pushes past me and into the room, where Charlie's sitting upright, looking just as terrified as I am as he and I trade panicked glances.

Bella puts down her bag before turning to face us.

And then with a squeal that makes my entire life, she hurls herself at me, bouncing up and down as she screams over and over again, "I passed!"


	45. Chapter 45

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer wrote Twilight. I wrote a letter to my representatives in Congress. (Try to Wiki something today if you're not sure what I'm talking about.)

* * *

><p>45<p>

As much as it kills me not to do more for her, our celebration dinner that night is pretty much the lamest one ever. Instead of making her cook, I make a run for Chinese take-out, and that's basically it. Charlie at least feels well enough to join us at the table to eat. We both raise our glasses to Bella and tell her how proud we are of her. She blushes and demurs.

After, Charlie's pretty tired, so he takes his pills and Bella helps him get resettled in his room. I deal with the dishes and then head back to my laptop. The end is in sight, but so is the deadline, and I can't help panicking a little.

Bella wanders in a few minutes later and comes to stand by my side. I absently wrap my left arm around her waist and turn to kiss her hip without taking my eyes off the screen or my hand off my mouse.

She threads her fingers through my hair and rubs at my scalp. I have to keep myself from moaning.

"How's it coming?"

I heave a heavy sigh and place another kiss on her side, then let her go and turn to face my screen. "Okay, I think. I'm just starting to freak myself out."

"Anything I can do?"

"Sadly, no." It's too close to done for me to really delegate.

"Okay." She steps behind me and gives my shoulders a quick rub, leaning forward to kiss the top of my head. "You'll let me know?"

"Yeah. Definitely."

She tugs my jaw until my lips meet hers, soft and sweet.

My eyes aren't exactly on my presentation as she walks away.

As soon as she's out of sight, though, I adjust myself and get back to it.

I can do this. I know I can.

#

Finally, at nine o'clock, I hit the save button and slump back in my chair. For a second, I stare at the screen blankly, unable to process that I could really be done.

Done done.

Finished.

I tip my head back and laugh and then punch the air, wanting nothing more than to go find my girlfriend and hug the shit out of her. Somehow, I find the presence of mind to back the damn file up to both a flashdrive and the network before slapping the screen closed and pushing my chair back. On my way out of the room, I hop over cords and smack the wall, just so happy to be moving. And done.

Still grinning like an idiot, I poke my head into just about every room in the house looking for Bella. To my surprise, she's not in the living room or in her bedroom, and I scratch my head for a minute before remembering.

There's one place I haven't looked yet.

Just like the last time, Charlie's man-cave is dark, and I smile when I see that the blanket that usually lives on the arm of his couch is gone. I go to the door out onto the enclosed porch and stare through the little glass pane for a minute. All I can see of her is the top of her head over the edge of the backwards-facing couch, but I know just what she's looking at – I know precisely the vastness of that sky.

I knock quietly before turning the knob and pushing the door open. As I step through and close the door behind me, she doesn't respond except to shift over, making a spot for me to sit. I take it gratefully, slip under the blanket and gaze up.

Before long, though, my eyes are drawn to her.

"Beautiful."

"I know," she says, still looking forward. "It is, isn't it?"

I let her think I'm talking about the sky.

There's something thoughtful to her, a quietness I haven't seen in a while. I brush her hair back from her face. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah. Just thinking."

"About?"

"I don't know. Life."

I give her a second to elaborate before asking, "What about it?"

"Just…everything." She finally turns to look at me. Reaches out to clasp my hand. "How it doesn't always turn out the way you planned."

"No." That's for sure.

"I haven't really had a chance to process everything, you know?" She hesitates, glances back at the sky and then to me. "I almost lost my dad this week."

The lump in my throat makes it hard to breathe. "But you didn't." I squeeze her hand. "He's fine."

"I know. I just…I'm grateful. That he's fine. That you're here. That I passed."

"That's a lot of good things."

She gets quiet again and looks out through the windows. In the tiniest, most whispering voice, she admits, "I wish my mom was here to see it all."

At that, I close the distance between us, sitting myself flush against her and wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "She'd be so proud of you," I tell her softly.

And I don't get it. I don't even begin to understand how someone could possibly not treasure having this girl in her life.

"I know." Bella swipes a hand under her eye and then looks up at me with a weak smile. Her voice, when she speaks again, is stronger, though. She's had her moment. And she's ready to move on. "How's your stuff going?"

I let her change the subject, grinning as I tighten my grip on her shoulder. "Finished the first draft."

"That's awesome."

"Yeah. Huge relief."

"Do you want to run through it together?"

She just gave her presentation today. She should be relaxing. But I could really use the extra set of eyes.

"Do you mind?"

"Not at all. Let's do it."

She moves as if to stand, but I don't let go of her. With my one arm wrapped around her, I reach with the other to hold her there, close to me.

I don't know why, but there's something about this place. Something about her vulnerability and her beauty.

Out of nowhere, I ask, "Do you remember the first time we kissed?"

The corners of her mouth turn up. "Of course I do."

"Me, too." I lean in closer, until my lips are just a breath away from hers. "One of the happiest nights of my life."

And then I remind us both about exactly how perfect it felt.

#

"Okay, now remember. This is a rough draft."

"Duly noted."

I take a deep breath and queue the presentation up to its first slide. It's almost more nerve-wracking than the real thing, doing this for Bella and Bella alone. While she'll love me regardless, I care about her opinion in a way that transcends how much I care about what my committee will think.

I love that she's smarter than me, but I can't lie. It makes me nervous as hell sometimes.

I give myself one last chance to look at her before launching into it. She's sitting in the dining room chair across from me, a notebook propped up in her lap and her expression serious.

She must see something in my expression, though. Something needy.

She smiles encouragingly, and it warms the deepest part of me.

_Here goes._

I begin as if I was really in front of my committee, introducing myself and my project. Then I launch into my presentation. I stumble once or twice, and in the opening section, I notice a couple of slides that need to be clarified. But once I hit my stride, I feel good. Really good.

Throughout it, Bella sits in rapt attention, glancing between me and the screen, taking notes from time to time. I try not to look at her too much, knowing full well how distracting she can be. But I know she's there.

And instead of making me nervous, her presence gives me strength.

At the end, I say a quick, perfunctory thank you and close my eyes. When I open them again, Bella's staring right at me, and her smile is so, so wide.

"Honestly?" she says.

"Honestly."

She rises from her chair and puts herself down right on my lap, then pulls me in for a long, slow kiss. With her nose brushing mine, her hand on the back of my neck, she grins. "One, I think you are so sexy when you talk about physics that you're going to have to beat any women on your committee off with a stick."

I shudder. There's only one woman, and she's about seventy years old. "Not an issue."

"Two." She backs up and shifts her hands so they press against my chest. "You're going to be _amazing_."

A harsh sigh of relief escapes my lips. To my surprise, my hands are shaking. "You mean it?"

"Absolutely. Everything made sense. You sounded super confident. And it was really dramatic. A lot of people have a hard time putting their research into a narrative, but yours is solid."

It's ridiculous how good that makes me feel.

"Thank God." I lean in and capture her lips with mine again, putting my hands on her waist. While I know there are some tweaks to be made, I'm sorely tempted to let myself get distracted – to tempt fate and to take her back to her room.

Fortunately, she's a lot more focused than I am. After kissing me back for a minute, she pushes off and stands back up. "That said…" She reaches for her notebook. "Here's a list of places that I thought could use a little work."

I groan and bang my head on the table. Then, with a dramatic sigh, I sit back up, reaching for her notes.

We spend the next two hours on revisions. It isn't easy to take her criticism, but I can't deny that most of her suggestions are spot-on. We cut a few slides and add a couple new ones, then make some minor adjustments to design elements and wordings.

At the end of it all, I sit back in my chair and rake my hand through my hair.

"What do you think?" she asks.

"I think…" I pause, paging through a few of the slides just one last time. Then I turn to her and smile. "I think I'm ready."

I feel like I'm ready for anything.


	46. Chapter 46

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer wrote Twilight. My husband wrote a 200-page dissertation. (I think. I never read it. Bad wife.)

* * *

><p><strong>Qualifier:<strong> An exam taken by a PhD candidate in the second or third year of studies. The particulars vary from school to school and program to program, but it typically consists of two major parts: 1) A test on the information learned during required coursework. 2) A presentation and oral examination about the candidate's research. (Get your heads out of the gutter, pervs. Not that kind of oral.)

During this second part, the candidate explains the nature of his research, outlines his findings to date, and lays out his plan for completing his research. The professors then ask him about a million questions to determine how thorough his knowledge is and generally try to tear his work to shreds.

If the candidate fails, he does not continue his research. He either exits the program without a degree or may be able to complete an alternate program to receive a Master's Degree.

If the candidate passes, he is deemed to be "qualified" to continue the program. He is then considered **ABD** – All But Dissertation. All that's left to do is complete the research, write the dissertation, and then defend it in another presentation and oral examination.

Which usually takes about two to five more _years_.

(Fun, right?)

* * *

><p>46<p>

The next day, at a little before two p.m., I find myself standing at the front of one of the classrooms in the basement of the physics building. I'm dressed up in the grey pants Alice got for me for Christmas, a button-down shirt and a tie. I've already got my laptop hooked up to the projector and I've tested my presentation about fifteen times. Just in case, I have a back-up copy on a flash drive in my pocket.

I'm alone.

But Bella's with me. Always.

Finally, members from my committee start filing in. When Molina shows up, I give him a nod, and he returns it, makes his way up to where I'm standing and gives me a sound clap on the shoulder. In a low voice, he assures me I'm going to do fine. He's seen my slides already, so he knows exactly how this is going to go down.

But no one else does.

At about five minutes after two, I move to stand in front of the projector. "Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Edward Cullen, and I'd like to thank you for being here today." I signal to Molina to dim the lights, and I step aside, remote control in hand, and click to the very first slide.

Before I start, I have to take a few deep breaths, though. I remember how Bella watched me as I gave my practice talk. How she told me over and over again that she loved it when I was done. I focus on one of the empty seats in the front of the room, and I imagine her there, cheering me on.

With that image in my head, I begin.

My overview is both brief and vague. It outlines what I'll be talking about, hinting that there will be a surprise, but it doesn't give away the game. Clicking forward, I move into the background section, where I explain the research done by other people in this area and define some basic terms. While this would usually be something to speed through, glossing over the details, Molina and I agreed that it was crucial to paint a clear picture of the theory I'd originally set out to prove and how promising that area of inquiry had seemed. I go through it point by point, then move on into the work I've done over the past two years. Supplemented by the simulations I've finished in the past two days, it shows conclusively that our original hypothesis was wrong.

And then I go in for the kill.

I lay out - in a way that's more dramatic than a presentation about particle physics has any right to be - how we decided that the problem wasn't with the research but with the theory itself.

The room was quiet to start with, but when I reveal the slide that shows the consequences of our new hypothesis, I swear you could hear a pin drop.

I pause, letting the idea sink in.

It isn't revolutionary, on a day-to-day level. But among particle physicists? Among which there are several in the room?

This is a Huge. Fucking. Deal.

Near-giddy with presentation-high, I breeze through the plan for how I'll follow up on our findings and what I expect to be the focus for my dissertation. At long last, I hit the final slide.

Dr. Molina turns the lights back on, and I stand there, feeling powerful. Like I could take on the entire world.

Or at least the world of high energy physicists.

There's a long pause. A long, long moment of absolute silence.

And then the questioning begins.

#

An hour later, I feel like the world took _me_ on. If academia was a boxing ring, I'd be the guy who'd just gotten the crap beaten out of him, standing bleeding in the corner. But I'm still on my feet.

The committee head clears his throat and straightens his stack of papers. "All right then, Mr. Cullen. I think we've heard enough."

Thank God. Because I'm not sure I have anything left.

I force a tired smile. "Okay."

"You can wait right outside."

So they don't think this will take long. I can't decide if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

I guess I'll find out soon.

I nod to them and step out into the hall. The door closes right behind me. The minute it's shut, I slump against the wall and then sink down to a crouch, sliding the entire way down.

"Brutal, aren't they?"

My head jerks up, and I'm surprised to find Emmett and Jasper both standing there. Then Jasper smirks and tilts his head to his side.

And I feel like I've got a little fight in me left.

I stagger to my feet and practically fall into Bella's arms. I kiss her hair and squeeze her tight. "What are you doing here?"

"Are you kidding me?" she asks, laughing. "Like I could wait 'til you got home to find out."

I groan at the reminder that my fate's being decided in the room behind me, but at the same time, my heart is leaping.

_Home._

She called her house home. Like it's my home, too.

"I'm glad you're here."

Jasper's voice interrupts. "And what are we, chopped liver?"

A couple smart replies bubble to the top of my mind, but I don't have the mental energy to bother. I just shake my head, leaning my cheek against the top of Bella's hair as I look over at him and Emmett. "Thanks, you guys. Really. It means a lot to me."

"Gosh, Eddie, you're making me tear up."

Before I can deal with his smart-ass remark, the door behind me opens up, and Molina's standing there, his expression maddeningly neutral.

"Edward? We're ready for you."

I give Bella one more tight hug and nod again at Jasper and Emmett, then follow Molina back in. He closes the door behind me and retakes his seat while I go to stand at the center of the room.

"Well," the leader of the committee says. "That was quite a story you told us today, Mr. Cullen."

My heart sinks. It's all a blur as he gives a run-down of all my project's flaws, and I'm seeing the water in the toilet of my career circling, just waiting for the flush.

And it's okay. I always knew this was a possibility.

But everything had been going so well.

Then, incongruently, he smiles.

"That said, you performed satisfactorily on your written exam, and we think you've more than proven your aptitude for research." He chuckles. "And I think you've got enough work ahead of you for about three dissertations."

I have to blink a couple of times before I can refocus. Even once I re-center myself, I have a hard time deciding what he's saying.

"Sir?"

Dr. Molina speaks up from the back. "It's over," he says, his voice laughing. "You passed, Edward. Congratulations."


	47. Chapter 47

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own some champagne flutes that really don't get enough use.

As some of you have suspected, we're officially winding down now. Current outline says 52 chapters + an epi. *sniff*

* * *

><p>47<p>

The minute those two most wonderful words in the universe escape my advisor's lips, everything goes fuzzy around the edges. I let out a low, exhausted laugh that must make me sound insane, and then somehow or other manage to hold it together long enough to thank everyone. To shake each committee member's hand.

The instant the last of them files out, Bella's at the doorway, looking at me with an unguarded expression that holds all the hope and fear and expectation that mine did about five minutes earlier. All I can manage to do is nod and laugh as I sink into one of the first-row chairs, unsure how I'm ever going to stand up again.

All that work. The sleepless nights and the worry.

All the people that helped me.

Before I know it, Bella's tearing through the room, squealing, arms wide. She drops to her knees in front of me and takes my face between her hands. She kisses me senseless, and I feel like I've won. I've won everything.

I'm just pressing forward, just tasting her sweetness, when I hear the sound of a throat clearing. I kiss Bella once more before groaning and looking up. Jasper and Emmett are standing there, looking less than patient.

"I take that it was good news?" Emmett asks.

Jasper rolls his eyes. "That or Bella offers one hell of a consolation prize."

I hug her tighter and close my eyes, biting back my more sarcastic replies. "Looks like you guys are stuck with me."

"Damn," Jasper says. "I really had my eyes on your desk."

I ignore him. "Thanks again. Couldn't have done it without you."

"And don't you forget it."

Emmett interrupts as he turns back toward the door. "We gonna see you guys at the bar tonight? The whole department's going."

God, but that sounds good. Today's the last day of qualifier exams, so everybody is going to be there, blowing off steam. Celebrating or commiserating.

Still, I look to Bella before I reply.

She shoots me a grin, then leans in close. With a growl so sexy it pushes through my exhaustion, she whispers, "Sue insisted on watching my dad overnight."

My groan is audible as I steal a wet, needy kiss, not even caring about our audience. "I think I may be the happiest man alive."

I'm officially an ABD PhD candidate. I'm done for the semester. And I'm going to have Bella in my bed. We don't have to be responsible. Or quiet.

Or clothed.

"Sooo…" Emmett clears his throat.

"Yeah," I say, forcing my gaze up to meet his. "We'll be there."

#

By the time we get there, the bar is crowded and loud and perfect. I keep my arm around my girl the entire time as we wade our way through the throng of people, eventually finding pretty much the entire physics department in the back room. People seem surprised to see Bella there, but they're all super nice to her, asking how her qualifier went and how she's doing. It feels like that scene out of _Say Anything_. And just like in the movie, the dork got the perfect girl, just by being himself.

Checking that she seems comfortable enough, I lean in and kiss her cheek, then ask her what she wants to drink. She frowns and gives it some thought.

God, how long has it been since she's had a night out?

"Never mind. I'll pick something out for you. Sweet or not-too-sweet?"

"Definitely sweet."

"Got it."

I wait my turn at the bar, scanning the girly-drink menu as I do. I end up picking something full of vodka and chocolate for her, then order a beer for myself. Five minutes and an awful lot of money later, I'm back by her side and pressing her glass into her hand. She eyes it suspiciously, but then gives it a sip, and her whole face lights up.

"Oh wow. This is super dangerous."

"Enjoy it." With that, I clink our glasses together and take a big swig myself.

We don't get drunk, but we do get…happy. We talk to colleagues and compare notes on our qualifiers.

We have fun.

And it's_ brilliant_.

Finally, when the night is starting to wind down, I find her again and wrap my arms around her, nuzzling my nose up and down her throat.

"Come home with me?" I ask quietly.

She shivers and leans into me. "I thought you'd never ask."

We take a cab back to my apartment, where we left our cars, and I chase her up the stairs, feeling lighter than I have in months. The minute we make it through the door, I scoop her up and carry her, squealing to my bedroom. Making no pretense of what I want, I set her down on her back in the middle of the bed and climb on top of her.

Kneel on all fours above her, I take a second to just _look_ at her. She's smiling and carefree, her hair all spread out on the mattress beneath her, her cheeks rosy and her lips so soft.

"I meant it," I say, touching a strand of her hair.

She wraps her hand around the back of my neck and opens her legs. "Meant what?"

"That I'm the happiest man alive."

"Then I'm the happiest girl."

With that, I lean down and sweep my lips over hers, soft, damp brushings and the lightest stroke of tongue. She tastes sweet like chocolate and spicy like liquor. She tastes perfect.

"So," she says, all seduction and beauty. Curling one leg around my hip, she caresses me with her calf and threads her fingers through my hair. "What did you want to do to celebrate?"

I kiss her mouth and then her throat. The clothed curves of her breasts and down her stomach to her hip. With my hands, I push her skirt up until her lace-clad sex is spread before me.

I lick my lips and breathe in deeply. _Intoxicating_.

"I don't know," I murmur, ghosting a fingertip down her thigh. "But I think I might have an idea."


	48. Chapter 48

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I really need to own some chocolate martini makings.

On that note, let the, ahem, _celebrating_ continue...

* * *

><p>48<p>

Bella lets out a groan, low and deep, and throws her head back. "God. You're such a tease."

I kiss where my fingers have just been, trace my lips along the soft, soft skin on the insides of her thighs. "I never tease."

To prove it, I swallow hard and put my mouth against the slip of lace between her legs. It's damp and musky, and it makes me harder than I can explain.

"I like this idea," she says breathlessly.

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah."

I kiss the fabric open-mouthed, and she lets loose a laughing, joyful, sexy sound. Touching my hair, she spreads her legs further, like an offering. "You realize you don't have to, right?"

"Believe me." I lick the skin along the edge of her panties and grind against the mattress. "I want to." I push her skirt up higher and kiss her tummy, right above the waistband of her underwear. So quietly, I tell her, "I want to know how you taste. When you come."

"Jesus."

Hooking my fingers into the fabric at her hips, I begin to tug it down, looking up at her. "Is this all right?"

"God, Edward. It's so much more than all right."

I don't need to know anything else. I pull her panties down her legs, caressing the skin as I go. When the fabric hits her ankles, I take each of her shoes off one at a time and kiss the insoles of her feet. I fling her panties behind me and set her legs back down on the mattress. And all I can see is her. Beautiful. Pink. Wet.

For just a second, my old insecurities well up. I dart my eyes to hers. "You'll tell me? If you don't like what I'm doing?"

"And you'll tell me if you don't like…" Her face blushes red and her eyes dart away. "…if you don't like how it is down there?"

A growl wells up in my chest. Interspersing my words with kisses, I make my way back up her legs. "I…cannot…imagine…not…loving…how you taste." When I reach the apex, I take one long lick and moan.

She sucks in a deep breath and lets it out in the sexiest whoosh. Like her body can't contain the air. "That's so hot."

"You have no idea." I spread her open with my fingers and explore her with my tongue. She tastes like sex, sweet and tangy, salty and musk. She tastes like Bella.

And I want so badly to make her come like this.

Softening my jaw, I fit my whole mouth to her, try to make my lips and tongue do what my fingers have so many times before. I listen for her pleasure as I nibble and lick and kiss. As I learn her all over again. And every thing I learn – everything she teaches me – I love. Her breath is my guide and my world as she shifts her hips up into my mouth, asking for more. Whimpering my name. Tensing. In the softest strokes, I lave her clit, and she shudders.

How did I think I couldn't do this for her?

"Oh, God," she breathes. I glance up at her from between her legs and love her with my tongue. Her voice is whispery and breathy. And I'm mad for her. Mad. "Just like that, baby."

I moan against her flesh, and she hums even higher. She rubs my neck and pushes her thighs against my shoulders, closing around me and pulling me in. I put my hands to her knees and keep her open to me.

If her moans are anything to judge her by, she_ loves_ when I hold her down like that.

I part from her flesh for just long enough to ask her if she likes it, and she groans. I can feel the slickness on my lips and chin, can smell her on my breath, and it just pushes me higher, makes me want more. Want to push inside her and kiss her. To _devour_ her.

"You gonna come for me, baby?"

Her yes is a panting squeak. "Put your fingers inside. Please."

I don't know where my boldness comes from as I trace her swollen lips and probe her opening. "You want me to fuck you with my hand?"

"Fuck, yes."

And I'm back on her. Fingers deep inside, thrusting and curling, mouth on her clit. I tongue and I pray and I lose myself in her, aware of only her noises and her taste. Of the ache that's compelling me.

"Oh, God, baby. Just like that. Just like that."

Her hand grips my hair almost painfully, and then a second later, she's screaming, tensing and calling out my name. Obscenities and deities.

And she _squeezes_ me.

I can feel her pulsing on my fingers.

I want it on my cock.

After a minute, she loosens her hold, moans and nudges my head away. I sit up on my knees and start tearing at my clothes, wanting only skin. Only skin and her and her body. Her kiss.

"Naked," I tell her. "Get naked."

She doesn't hesitate, whipping off her top and wriggling her skirt down. She's taking off her bra as I wrestle with my belt and push my pants down. Naked, I wipe the back of my hand over my mouth, and she groans.

"So fucking sexy," she murmurs.

"Yeah, you are."

I kiss my way up her body until my eyes are level with hers, my cock hard and leaking against her thigh. She puts her hand on the side of my face and stops me just before my mouth meets hers.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

She pulls me down and cranes herself forward all at once until our lips meet. I kiss her soft. I kiss her deep. Sliding myself along that sweet, wet part of her, I moan, shaking with my need.

"I want inside you so bad."

Closing her legs around me, she cups my ass, slides a finger down the crack. It's weird and wonderful and everything feels so good. "Then what are you waiting for?" she asks.

I attach my mouth to her neck, sucking hard as I sink inside her. I squeeze my eyes shut and moan her name aloud. She's the wettest I've ever felt her, snug and hot around me, and I'm not going to last long.

"This isn't going to be gentle, Bella."

"Please."

Needing only to take and to come and to just fucking _love_ her, I thrust hard and deep – harder than I've ever thrust before. She eggs me on, a hand on my chest and the other still on my ass. Her legs pull me closer, and her lips are at my ear, whispering filthy things about how much she loves when I'm inside, when I'm buried deep and when I have my mouth on her… on her _pussy_.

"Fuck, Bella. I'm close."

"That's it, baby. Let go."

And I do.

God, I do.

I do.

I do.


	49. Chapter 49

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I get pwned when I play Halo. (Which I don't do. Ever.)

* * *

><p>49<p>

That night, I have pretty much the best sleep of my entire adult life. I knew the stress and long hours and everything were getting to me, but it's not until I wake up the next morning, finally feeling really rested and _relaxed_ for the first time in months, that I understand how much so.

The fact that I wake up in the warmth of Bella's mouth doesn't exactly hurt the 'relaxed' part either.

I moan and thread my hands through her hair, mumble to her how good she feels. How good she is to me.

Once it's clear that I'm awake and with her, that I'm hard and ready, she kisses her way up my bare chest to my mouth, where our lips tangle, wet and soft. There's a warm glow to everything, made only warmer when she slides me inside.

We breathe each other's names as one.

Between the fog of sleep and the looseness of my body, the lingering satiation from coming so hard in her the night before, I have a little extra staying power. We love slow and lazy, my hands on her hips as she rocks over me. As she _rides_ me.

"I love watching you like this," I whisper, caressing her back.

I love it so much. The sway of her breasts. The shiny wet of my cock every time she lifts up.

"Touch me?" she asks. Her voice is breathy, like she's close.

I slide my hand around to press my thumb against her clit, rubbing softly as she moves. Her little moans get louder and higher. And I ask for more. Always more.

"Be loud for me, baby."

We so rarely get to be alone.

At that, her sounds reach a whole new crescendo. She puts her mouth against my ear, and all I can hear is her. "Get there. With me."

It doesn't take much.

Pushing up into her, I let the feeling crest, put all my mind to it. As she shakes and cries out, I pull her down onto me, bury myself deep.

And give her everything.

#

In the post-orgasmic haze, I hold Bella close and drift, wondering if it's possible to have a better morning. Then she pulls away and tugs at my hand. I resist…right up until she suggests taking a shower.

Together.

I'd thought my girl was beautiful before, but I had no idea. None.

Under the spray, she's radiant, her skin slippery and wet. She lets me wash her, rub shampoo into her hair. Once I'm done, she convinces me to kneel so she can return the favor. Her fingertips on my scalp feel magical, and I steady myself with my hands on her hips, tilting forward to press soft kisses to her abdomen.

Just like our very first morning together, we eat breakfast in our underclothes, sitting on my couch. Instead of watching Muppet clips this time, though, I try to teach her how to play Halo.

It goes poorly.

Really, really poorly.

After spending about ten minutes stuck in a puddle and unable to jump out – no matter how many times I explain what to do – she throws the controller at me with a huff. I catch it and laugh and set it aside so I can grab her ankle as she tries to get away. I kiss my way up her leg.

"Fine, fine," I tell her. "You don't have to like video games."

"I rock at Tetris, I'll have you know."

"I'm sure you do."

She pulls me close and pops a wet smack of a kiss on my nose. "You go ahead and play. I'll just watch for a bit."

I crinkle my forehead up. "That sounds awfully boring for you."

"Nah." She settles back against the opposite arm of the couch and reaches for her coffee. "I have a pretty awesome view."

I will never get over the fact that she seems to like looking at me as much as I like looking at her.

With a quick flick of the controls, I manage to pop her character up out of the water and start running it back toward the action. It's not super exciting since I put her in a starter area, but I figure if I'm ever going to get her to try again I should make what I'm doing look, you know, doable.

As I sit there, shooting up bad guys, she stays mostly quiet for a bit. Then I feel her foot poking at my thigh.

I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. "Yeah?"

"Just thinking."

"About?"

"Did you ever figure out that you're doing for Christmas?"

Shit.

Double shit.

Triple shit.

I groan and pause the game so I can bury my face in my hands. "No. Crap, my mom is going to kill me."

I've been sending all her calls to voicemail for the past week. It's a dick move, but I've just been so busy. Suddenly, it's all over, and Christmas is – I count on my fingers – three days away.

Killing would be too good for me. Mom's going to _eviscerate_ me.

Bella's voice eventually penetrates my guilt-spiral. "Do you usually stay long? When you go home?"

There's a low waver to her words, and I glance up to find her with her lip between her teeth.

My chest feels warm. "Why?" I tease. "You gonna miss me?"

She scowls and kicks my leg. Still, she says, "Maybe."

I sit back and reach for her hand. "I usually stay for about a week. Come back right before New Year's."

Her face falls.

"But," I start, rubbing her palm, "I can't imagine being gone that long this year."

"No?"

I lean in to brush my nose against hers before kissing her. "I'd miss you way too much." I pull back and look at her, my head tilted to the side. "What do you usually do?"

I know full well she doesn't really have any other family, so it's no surprise when she shrugs. "Nothing, really. I set up a fake tree. Make a turkey breast. I mean, it's just me and Dad, you know? And especially this year, with his health…"

There are so many levels on which that is not acceptable.

With a sudden resolve, I reach for my phone. Maintaining eye contact with Bella as best I can the whole time, I hit the buttons to dial my mom. Wincing, I hold the phone away from my ear when she picks up.

"_Edward Anthony Cullen—"_

"Mom, hold on. I have a good reason for being a terrible son."

"You had better—"

I interrupt her again, and after taking a deep breath, I launch into the full story of the past week. About being sure I was going to fail my qualifier. About Charlie's stroke. About figuring everything out, thanks to Bella.

And about falling in love. Falling madly, deeply in love.

Right around then, my mom goes quiet.

"So," I say, staring at Bella, giving her a soft smile to assure her everything's all right. "Her dad is too weak still to really do anything for Christmas. And I just… I don't feel right leaving her alone to deal with this."

There's a moment of silence.

Then my mother's voice comes through. I can hear the edge of tears in it. "Oh, Edward. Oh, my dear, sweet boy."

"I know you were worried about me getting too involved, but Mom… This is important. So important."

It's everything to me.

"Of course it is," Mom says. "You did exactly the right thing."

"And I know you want me home for Christmas, but—"

"No, no, of course not. Oh, this is going to be tricky, but—"

_Tricky?_

"Mom?"

"Oh, honey. You stay there and take care of your girl. And don't you worry about a thing." Her voice gets stronger with every word, until by the end she's all resolve. "If you can't come to us for Christmas, then we'll just have to come to you."


	50. Chapter 50

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a fake Christmas tree. (Don't worry, it's not still up.)

* * *

><p>50<p>

Bella's just as agitated as I am as she turns to me. "You've got your list?"

I nod before leaning in to kiss her forehead. With a sigh, I step away and put my game face on.

We're at the mall. On December 23.

I shudder and then set off. I learned a long time ago that the one good thing about leaving Christmas preparations until the last possible second is that there's no time to dick around. Instead of worrying about doing everything perfectly, you just worry about getting them done at all.

And when you're talking about a Cullen family Christmas, that's really as much as any man can handle.

After my mom dropped her bombshell, I sat there sputtering for a few minutes, only half-listening as she kept talking. When she said goodbye and that she'd see me soon, I nodded dumbly and hung up before dropping my phone. Then I told Bella what we were in for.

Fortunately, my girl's a genius in her own right, and went right back into problem-solving mode. She got on the phone with Sue and with Charlie's new nurse to coordinate care for her dad for the next couple days. Then she moved right on to the actual crisis, starting shopping lists and trying to figure out how we'd deal with so many people. In the end, we decided I'd stay at Bella's house as usual while my family would stay at my apartment, with my parents in my room and my sister on my couch.

Which led to a round of feverish cleaning. And then some more cleaning. And a lot of laundry. And some cleaning.

We went back to her house and cleaned there, too. Then, listening to John Denver and the Muppets, we dragged out all her old Christmas decorations and got to work. Up on a ladder outside her house, I strung up row after row of lights. It was something I'd watched my dad do every year at our house, and there was something warm and unexpected about doing it _there_. Something about taking care of a house with the family I'd chosen and not just the one that I'd been born in.

And now here we are. Shopping.

She's off grabbing gifts for Sue and Charlie, and she insisted on picking up some generic things for my family, too. I'm scrambling trying to find stuff for everyone.

Thank God I'm a guy and no one expects anything profound.

Well, no one except Bella.

But that's okay. I've got her covered.

In fact, the minute she's out of sight, I pull off the main drag in the center of the mall and go looking for a quiet place in the back corner of a department store. Once there, I pull out my phone and the scrap of paper Sue covertly passed me on her way out last night.

Once I'm done, I tuck my phone back away and get started on my shopping. I find some hipster crap jewelry for Alice and something with decent-looking fake pearls for my mom. A fancy pen for my dad. A Go set for Charlie and some girly lotions and stuff for Sue.

Even with all that, I make it back to Bella's and my meeting spot with about ten minutes to spare. I crash down into one of the chairs there and fire up the browser on my phone to check some of my anime fan sites, when I hear pretty much the last voice I ever expected.

"Eddie!"

I wince before looking up.

Sure enough, Jasper's standing there, three or four bags dangling from his hands and an older woman with exactly his eyes standing next to him.

"Um, hi. Jasper."

"Hey." He nods at the lady. "Mom? This is my officemate I've been telling you about, Edward. Edward, this is my mom."

I furrow my eyebrows as I stand and hold my hand out to shake hers. "I didn't know your family was in the area."

_Texan, my ass._

"Dude," he says, scoffing. "You didn't know? I live in my mom's basement."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. Saves us both a ton of money." He nudges his mom. "Plus, she wouldn't know what to do without me."

She rolls her eyes and nudges him right back. "You mean besides go to the senior center and find your next stepdad?"

"Ew," he groans, wincing.

"Jasper? Is that you?" Bella joins us, similarly burdened with packages.

"Hey, B," he says, leaning in to give her a quick hug.

I give him the evil eye while he's not looking, but the instant he lets go, Bella comes over to stand by me. I bend down to give her a quick peck and gesture are her bag. "Find everything okay?"

"Yeah, though I don't know if I got anything right for your family."

I shake my head and kiss her again. "You didn't have to get them anything at all. They'll love whatever you picked out."

"Here's hoping." With that, she turns back to Jasper. "So what are you doing here?" Tilting her head toward his mom, she asks, eyes twinkling, "And who's your hot date?"

Jasper's mom holds out her hand and introduces herself.

"Oh wow," Bella says. "That's so neat. I didn't know you were a local."

"Born and raised. We're just here doing a little last-minute shopping."

"Yeah, us too. We're having a big Christmas at my house, apparently," she confides. "Edward's family's coming to stay and everything."

"Dude. Combining family Christmases already?" He looks pointedly at Bella's hand. "You guys getting hitched or something?"

The very idea puts a hitch in my throat. "Nah," I say, voice tight. "Not yet."

But someday. Maybe.

Bella laughs. "Maybe we should, though. Might make your parents less likely to kill me if I make an honest man of you."

"They're not going to kill you."

They're going to love her. How could they not?

"If you say so." She addresses Jasper and his mom again. "If you guys want, you're welcome to stop by. Apparently I'll be cooking for an army."

What.

The.

Fuck.

My head whips around so fast I'm worried I'll get whiplash. "Bella—"

"That's right kind of you, B. I just might take you up on that if my mom decides to go out gold-digging."

Thank goodness Jasper's mom slaps him, because if she didn't, I might.

Figuring there's nothing I can do about it now, I let out a deep sigh and grab my bags, brushing Bella's hand as I ask her if she's ready to go.

"Yeah, sure. It was nice to meet you," she adds, nodding at Jasper's mom. "And the offer definitely stands."

After a couple more rounds of goodbyes, I manage to steer Bella away. Once we're out of earshot, talking through clenched teeth, I ask her, "Really, Bella?"

"What?"

"Jasper? Of all people…" I shake my head as I dodge cars in the aisles of the parking lot.

"What? I think he's hilarious."

Shaking my head, I mumble under my breath, "He's a piece of work all right."

I mean, we may be friends now. But he's not exactly the kind of friend you bring home to meet your mom. Or your sister.

Or anyone.

Back at my car, we manage to get everything loaded, and then we're on our way back to her house. We walk in to find Charlie and Sue sitting together on the couch, holding hands, with the air smelling like fake pine and a simmering roast. The little artificial tree is lit, and there's garland everywhere.

It's a little different from what I'm used to, but it's warm and cozy and full of love.

And that's all it really needs to feels like home.


	51. Chapter 51

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I 'own' a mother-in-law that puts Esme to shame.

* * *

><p>51<p>

The morning of Christmas Eve, Bella and I wake to the sound of my alarm. I reach over to turn the thing off, then snuggle back into her. She grumbles and pushes at my chest.

"Don't wanna go," I mumble back.

"Don't want you to, either." She pauses. Then, sounding more and more awake, she asks, "When are your folks getting in?"

"Noon?"

"Ugh." She lifts her head to glance at the clock and groans again. "You should go."

"Don't wanna."

She kisses me on the lips and wriggles out from under me. "Come on."

With a huff, I let her drag me up. Once I'm out of bed and parted from her warmth, I start remembering everything I need to do today, and it's all the impetus I need to get moving. I dress quickly, not bothering to shower since I can do that back at my place. Before heading out, I hug her from behind and kiss the back of her neck.

"See you tonight?"

"We'll be here."

There's a nervous edge to her tone of voice that makes me pause. Tightening my arms around her, I murmur, "They're going to love you, you know."

"Easy for you to say. You won my dad over with checkers and beer. Moms aren't so easy."

"Mine is. I love you, so she will, too."

"If you say so."

"I do."

After one last kiss on the lips, I take my leave. As usual, Charlie's door is ajar, and I pause at it. What I see through the gap makes me frown. I push the door open a little further and step just inside.

"You know, Bella's going to have your head when she sees what you're doing."

He freezes, standing beside his bed, one hand on the wall, all his energy directed toward the walker on the other side of the room. With a grunt, he looks up at me. "If I don't try, she'll never let me."

"I know."

I don't make a move to stop him, but I don't go either.

"You gonna just stand there and watch me?"

"Yup."

At least it's a little safer that way. Right?

He gets that look on his face again like he's never suffered a worse indignity, but I know he has. After huffing, his mouth settles into a line, his eyes fixed with concentration as he heaves himself. My heart goes crazy and my stomach does a flip-flop, my whole body poised to run in case he falls, but I don't move to help.

And sure enough, after a couple tries and not a little bit of rearranging his uncooperative leg, he gets himself there. Two hands on the handles of his walker. Standing. Proud.

"See?" he says, panting. "No problem."

I chuckle. "If you say so."

Behind me, there's the sound of Bella's door opening, and I brace myself. At first, her tone is playful, but it quickly gives way as she comes to stand behind me. "What are you still doing—Dad?"

He shakes his head and grips the walker tighter. "Don't be mad, Bells."

She rounds on me. "Did you help him?"

"Nope. But I supervised."

"Dad!"

"Never gonna get better if I don't push myself."

Under her breath, she mutters, "You're gonna push yourself right off a cliff."

"I heard that."

"Good." With narrowed eyes, she jabs me in the chest. "And you could have stopped him."

I wrap one arm around her waist and kiss her temple. "Sorry."

I'm not really, but I know when not to poke an enraged momma bear.

She throws up her hands and pushes me away, then points toward the door. "Go."

"I love you," I say quietly as I present my lips.

She grants me a kiss and a begrudging, "I love you, too."

"See you later, Charlie."

"Later."

Granted my reprieve, I make a quick escape.

On the way back to my apartment, I hit the grocery store, then sneak in a quick shower and a little bit of obsessive tidying. Right on time at exactly noon, the buzzer sounds. With a nervous bubble in my throat, I hop over to the intercom and say, "Hello?"

My mom's voice rings out with a bright, "Merry Christmas!"

I can't help smiling as I press the button to let them in.

Moments later, I'm overrun. My mom's first of course. She doesn't even bother to get out of the doorway so Dad and Alice can come in, just drops her shopping bags full of packages and wraps me up in a too-tight-to-breathe hug.

"It's good to see you, too, Mom," I choke out.

She lets me go but keeps her hands on my shoulders as she leans back to look at me. Her one eye narrows. "You've been eating."

I laugh and urge her to come in already. "Yeah. Bella makes me."

"I like this girl already."

"Just wait 'til you meet her."

My dad's next through the door as my mom finally moves inside. He's got a suitcase in each hand, so instead of a hug, he just gives me a quick nod. "Edward."

"Dad."

Finally, there's Alice.

I have no idea how she manages to text and walk at the same time.

"Hi," she says, not even looking up.

I wrap an arm around her anyway, and to her credit, she lets me.

By the time I've closed the door, my mom's pretty much taken over the place. "We brought an air mattress, so we should be able to just move the table, and—"

"Mom. Mom, stop."

"What?"

I take a deep breath. "I'm going to stay at Bella's while you're here. You two get my room. Alice gets the couch."

I don't ask for permission. I just tell her.

"Edward…"

"Mom."

My dad's the one to interrupt the stand-off, glancing from my mom to me and then back again before saying, slowly, "That's very generous, Edward. We'll have to thank the Swans for letting you stay there."

I might not have asked for permission.

But I might not mention that this isn't the first time I've slept over, either.

#

A few hours later, armed with three pizzas, a giant salad, and garlic knots, we pull into Bella's driveway. My dad's driving, but as the navigator, I've got shotgun. Before anyone can get out, I hit the button to activate the child-proof locks. I turn in my seat to address them all. "Now remember, Bella's dad just got out of the hospital on Monday, so take it easy on him."

"Edward, please—" my mom starts.

I hit the button for the locks again, for emphasis. "And Bella's super nervous, so be nice."

"This should be good," Alice says.

I narrow my eyes at her. "Especially you. No stupid stories or…"

She makes the sign of a halo over her head, but I don't buy it for a second.

"Edward, honestly," Dad breaks in. "We would never embarrass you."

"Sure."

With that, he pops the locks and everyone piles out. I carry the food, and my dad grabs the startling quantity of presents they've brought.

We're only halfway up the walk when the door swings open, revealing the most beautiful girl in the world. I dart ahead to get to her first. Leaning in for a quick kiss, I whisper, "Remember: you love me."

Then I take an important, strategic step back.

Bella looks at me, bewildered…right until my mom swoops in and wraps her up in a hug. "Oh, you must be Bella. You're just as beautiful as Edward described."

"Ummm…"

"We just brought a couple little things. Shall I set them under the tree?"

She wanders a little further inside, then stops, hands clasped in front of her chest when she sees Charlie. "Mr. Swan. Thank you so much for letting us join you."

Sitting primly in his chair, he's more dressed up than I've ever seen him, with a sweater pulled on over his usual flannel shirt, and his hair combed back. "Please. Call me Charlie."

"Oh, Charlie, you have a lovely home…"

My mom keeps talking, but I tune her out as I introduce my sister and my dad. Bella stands there, looking overwhelmed as she says hello and shows everyone in.

The house has never had so much sheer _activity_. But it's good. So good.

As Alice settles in on the couch with her phone and my mom talks Charlie's ear off while my dad looks on, I sidle up to my girl. Stroking the soft fabric of her dress and admiring how it hugs her curves, I press my lips to her cheek. "You look beautiful."

She's still staring slack-jawed at my mother. "Is she always like this?"

"Always."

Even though Bella's clearly shell-shocked, there's a low smile teasing at her lips.

To my surprise, everyone actually behaves. My mom gets Bella's entire life story out of her before we're even done with dinner. Afterward, with A Muppet Christmas Carol playing in the background, we sit around her living room, talking and trading stories. Charlie nods off for a little while, and my sister stays more or less glued to her phone, but that's all right. My dad gets into the nitty gritty of Bella's research, and I smile as her eyes light up, talking about the particular aspects of String Theory she's most interested in. While Dad slips in a couple barbs about his preference for Quantum Loop Gravity, she deflects them easily, and he doesn't press any of his points too far. By the time my mom interrupts them, begging them to talk about something she and Alice can understand, they're both grinning widely.

While Bella isn't looking, Dad gives me two thumbs up. "She's smart," he mouths.

Silently, bursting with pride, I whisper back, "I know."

At about nine o'clock, my dad fake-yawns and taps my mother on the shoulder.

"Oh! Look at the time." She moves to stand. "We should really be going." Addressing Charlie, she asks, "You're sure you don't mind Edward staying here tonight?"

Charlie shoots me a look, and my cheeks heat up. He covers for me, though. "Nah. He's no trouble."

I'm going to owe him. Big time.

"That's so kind of you. His apartment really is such a tiny little thing."

I interrupt and Bella goes to get their coats, her eyes averted, her cheeks as red as mine feel. "You guys remember the way back?"

"Shouldn't be a problem," Dad replies.

There's all the typical hustle and bustle as they get ready to go.

Before leaving, my mom swoops in for another hug. "We'll see you tomorrow morning." Moving to hug Bella, she adds, "And I'm at your disposal to help with all the cooking. Or not. Whatever you prefer."

"Thanks," Bella says, returning her embrace awkwardly. "I'm sure that would be great. The help, that is."

Mom adds an extra kiss on her cheek. "I can see exactly why my son adores you."

By the time we get her out the door, _everybody's _blushing. Bella and I stand together, arm in arm, as we watch them drive away.

And it feels so right, standing there with her. Like a unit. Like partners.

Like a family.

My heart glowing, I squeeze her tight. "See?" I ask. "Told you they'd love you."

She stares after them, eyes sparkling.

And it strikes me – if the house seemed uncharacteristically full of life tonight, how must it have felt to her?

What must it have been like to spend all those years with just her dad, alone?

Swiping the back of her hand across her face, she stares after their receding taillights.

Then, quietly, she says, "I'm pretty sure I love them, too."

.

.

.

* * *

><p>Just one more and an epi. *sniff*<p> 


	52. Chapter 52

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a box of Kleenex and an mp3 of "The Christmas Wish" by Kermit the Frog.

Seems some of you were blindsided by this wrapping up so quickly. I swear, I called it that there would be 52 chapters back right after he passed his qualifier. Anyway, sorry for any confusion about that. But it's time to let these guys fly on their own…

* * *

><p>52<p>

Back about a month ago, there were a few things I knew about Bella Swan. They were all the things you can tell about a person from a distance. Things about how she took her coffee and what she studied. About her obsession with the Muppets.

On Christmas Day, I wake up in her bed and I unwrap her like the gift she is.

I know a lot more things about her now.

Things about how she tastes between her legs and how she kisses when nobody is watching. How she likes to bite my throat when she comes.

And there are other things. Things about who she _is_. Her kindness and her selflessness. Her humor.

Her love.

I know she makes me a better, stronger person. And that I do the same for her.

Unwilling to worry yet about the day that's waiting for us outside, we make love, her body under mine as I slip inside. We touch softly, love silently, until the last gasps when there are lips to ears, soft breaths and names and then only her. Only her.

After collapsing down onto her, jelly inside my bones, I whisper, "Happy Christmas."

She hugs me close and wishes me the same.

It's probably the happiest ever.

As much as both of us would like to, we don't linger long there, but we can't quite seem to bear to separate completely, either. Muffling giggles, we take a chance and sneak off to the bathroom together to shower. It's a silent, silly affair, with soap everywhere and more groping than is really a good idea, considering.

After, we dress and start our day. While Bella starts wrestling the turkey, I whip up an awesome breakfast of cereal and coffee and ignore the dirty looks that Charlie gives me as he eats.

Maybe we weren't as silent in the shower as we thought.

At about ten, my family shows up. They're followed not long after by Sue and her two kids and, horrifyingly, Jasper. With so many people in the house, we break up into different groups, mixing and mingling. Mom and Bella spend most of the day in the kitchen, with Sue and her daughter occasionally popping in to help. I play Risk with Charlie and my dad and Sue's son, and I shoot dagger eyes at Jasper when he tries his usual bullshit on my sister.

Somehow, I restrain myself from burning her phone after I see him plugging his number into it before he leaves.

Because seriously. She's addicted to that thing, and I value my life.

Late in the afternoon, Bella finally takes off her apron and informs us all that dinner is served. It's a chaotic affair, with people sitting wherever they can find a seat.

I find mine right next to my girl.

And everything is delicious. Especially her kiss.

#

After my father and Alice and I finish cleaning up, we join the rest of the gang in the living room. It's crowded and ridiculous, with half of us sitting on the floor, but that's okay.

It's family.

Presents get passed around and opened, while in the background, Kermit the Frog sings about what Christmas means to him. Some of the gifts get big laughs, while others are received with quiet gratitude. Like the necklace Charlie apparently managed to order for Bella at some point when she wasn't looking. Or the framed copy of the first article I published in _Physics Review B_ that my parents got for me.

While everyone else seems to be distracted, Bella leaves my side for a moment to dig under the tree for something. She comes back bearing a small wrapped package that she places in my lap, her cheeks scarlet.

"For me?" I ask quietly.

She nods.

"Hold on one sec."

I put the package aside and head to the tree to find the little box I hid there while she was cooking this morning. She eyes it with a mix of trepidation and excitement.

"At the same time?"

"Sure."

We each tear into the wrapping of our presents, but I have to admit, I'm paying more attention to her than I am to what I'm doing.

It's the most I've ever spent on anyone, even though I split it with Charlie.

When she opens up the box and pushes aside all the tissue paper to find only an envelope, she frowns. "Excessive packaging much?"

"Just open it."

She breaks the seal on the envelope and opens up the paper folded inside of it.

And her eyes get wet.

"Edward, I can't…"

Charlie interrupts, his voice gruff. "It's from me, too."

"It's too much."

I put a hand on her knee and squeeze gently. "It's just enough."

"What is it?" my mom asks. Suddenly every eye in the room is on Bella and me.

With her voice shaking, her gaze fixed on the floor, she says, "Off-hours nursing. A lot of it."

"You don't have to spend the time with me, of course," I preface.

Charlie chuckles. "In fact, I'd prefer it if you didn't."

Ignoring him, I continue, "You need time for you. To be and do whatever you want to."

"No more giving up your life for me," Charlie says gruffly.

Bella's eyes are still misty. "I never minded."

"But I did." He forces a smile, but the edges of his mustache are quivering. "No one wants to see his kid sacrificing for him."

I reach out to touch her cheek. "And I want to see you smile more."

A single tear falls from her eye, but she's laughing as she wipes it away. "Are you kidding? I feel like I haven't stopped smiling since the first time you talked to me."

"Me, neither." I squeeze her tight and press my lips against her temple. "Me, neither."

We're quiet for a moment, until she pulls away, swiping at her cheek and pointing at the half-unwrapped present still sitting in my lap. "Just a warning, this is going to seem really lame, in comparison."

"I'm sure I'll love it."

Self-conscious of the people looking on, I finish tearing at the paper and lift the lid on the box.

Not gonna lie. What I see inside confuses me.

I try to keep that confusion from my voice, but I'm pretty sure it leaks through. "Socks?"

There's just one pair, all black except for a red ribbon that runs around the ankle.

_Weird._

"Um, yeah," she says, looking embarrassed. "I made them."

Holy shit.

"Um, wow."

They're really amazing. I've seen hand-knit stuff before, and these are way, way better than most. Without hesitating, I tug my shoes and socks off and pull the new ones on. They're soft and warm and exactly my size.

"Perfect fit."

Still acting uncharacteristically sheepish, Bella pulls up the hem of her pants to expose her ankles. Her socks are knit of the same material, and they sport the same red trim.

"We match," I say, grinning.

But there's something tugging at the back of my head. Some memory of something I've heard before.

"There's a card in the bottom of the box."

I root around until I find it. I flip it open and read.

_..._

_An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet,  
>regardless of time, place, or circumstances.<br>The thread may stretch or tangle but will never break.  
>-Chinese Proverb<em>

_According to Chinese myth, the gods tied an invisible red thread around the ankles of a man and a woman who were destined to meet and become lovers. It is similar to the Western concept of soulmates: two people who are meant for each other._

_..._

There's a red thread around my ankle. And one around hers.

I have to read the card twice. When I look up, my vision is blurry. My gaze goes straight to hers.

"Soulmates?" I whisper.

She nods and threads her fingers through mine. "It's called 'The Red String of Fate'. I always thought it was a nice story, but it wasn't until I met you…"

With my free hand, I touch her face and pull her close. When I say the word again, it's not a question but an affirmation. "Soulmates."

And then I kiss her, softly and gently and without regard for everyone that's looking on.

For the most part, they give us our moment, and we take it, only pulling away once we've said what we need to with lips and breath. But even when we aren't kissing, I hug her tighter, keep her closer. Together, we watch our families mix and mingle, and as we do, I can't help but think that maybe this is how it will always be. Me and her. Her and me.

There will be setbacks and obligations. Responsibilities and things we have to do.

But they don't have to be burdens. Not when we're both here, holding each other up.

They're just the pieces of our lives, the red strings of love and family that tie us all together.

And that's a theory about strings that I can definitely believe in.

.

.

.

* * *

><p>*sniff* Epi should be up on Friday. Thanks so much for taking this journey with me and letting me share my friends with you.<p> 


	53. Epilogue

**A/N:** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. You all own my heart.

* * *

><p><strong>Epilogue:<strong>

Four years and three months after passing my qualifier, I find myself in a familiar setting. It's a slightly nicer classroom, in a higher-traffic part of the physics building. On the screen, there's a projected image of a PowerPoint slide, stating the conclusions of an experiment that's been six years in the making. And in the seats, there are five professors with my future in their hands.

Effectively.

_I_ defended my PhD last week, and am now officially Dr. Edward Cullen, Ph.D.

I'm hoping that, by the end of the day, I won't be the only one with a doctorate in my family.

The lights come up, and the most beautiful woman in the entire world smiles. She nods to the professors and then to all of the friends and family here to see her defense. Charlie and Sue. My parents. Alice and – I still shudder – her fiancé, one Dr. Jasper Whitlock.

And me.

But not just me.

As the whole room breaks into applause, I hunch down in my seat to put my mouth next to the ear of the most beautiful _girl_ in the world as I grasp her tiny wrists and make her clap her hands together. "Clap for Mommy," I whisper.

Elizabeth does just that, slapping her hands together and cooing/gurgling/drooling.

And it melts this little part of me I didn't even know existed until eleven months ago, when a miracle came into my life. Again.

I moved in with Bella and Charlie as soon as the lease ran out on my old place. We'd only been dating about nine months, but when it's right, it's right. Not long after, I proposed, and six months after that, we tied the knot in a little service in our back yard.

Later that year, Bella came to bed one night and looked at me with a funny expression I didn't even know what to make of. She reminded me that it was almost impossible to take time off to have a baby in the first few years of a professorship. That she didn't want to be one of those women to realize at forty that she had a career but no fertility. That, as crazy as grad school could be, it afforded one of the most flexible schedules an academic would ever have.

That she wanted a child.

With me.

That was about when I stopped counting how many times she'd made me the happiest man in the world.

I didn't know if I was ready, but I did know she was right. If we just sat there waiting for the perfect time, we'd probably let it slip on past us. And we could do it. Right then and there, we could.

Grinning like an idiot and tearing up embarrassingly, I told her I agreed. And then I made love to her a whole new sense of purpose infusing every part of me.

The following year passed in a blur. Charlie and Sue got married and Sue moved in. We put an addition on the house and built a nursery. We worked on our theses.

And Bella and I learned first-hand about the miracle of life.

The disgusting, terrifying, never-sleeping, amazing, joyous, fantastic miracle of life.

Somehow, we juggled it all. Midnight feedings turned into midnight thesis-writing sessions. Typically, theorists like Bella finish up their doctorates a year or two faster than experimentalists like I do, but after going part-time for a few months after the birth and all, Bella ended up scheduling her defense for a week after mine.

The month both of us were scrambling to finish writing our dissertations, my mom drove up and pretty much moved in, too.

But it was all worth it. Because we're here. And we're an hour or two away from being done.

Elizabeth squeals, and I bounce her a little more aggressively on my knee. At her continued squirminess, I let her gum on my thumb, wondering if we're going to have to make a strategic retreat. Mercifully, at just that moment, Dr. Banner stands up and thanks everyone for coming, then not-so-subtly asks us all to get the hell out so the committee can tear my wife apart.

Thank goodness. Because I'm pretty sure my angel just let loose one hell of a fart.

I gather up the little stinker and sling her diaper bag over my shoulder, then head to the front of the room. Bella's still got her game-face on, so I don't linger, just give her a quick hug and whisper that I think she did amazing. Elizabeth agrees, still clapping. Bella can't help but smile and lean in to plant a soft kiss on her forehead before I pull her away.

Elizabeth is _not_ amused about this.

"I know, I know," I grumble as that lower lip starts trembling, signaling the ten-second countdown to a Baby Armageddon. "I don't want to leave Mommy to those vultures either." I get her out of the room as quickly as I can. Once outside, I hold her out in front of me, reassuring her that, "With any luck, we'll get her back real soon." I make a goofy face that gets her to at least crack a smile. "And then she'll be _Doctor_ Mommy. Doesn't that sound good?"

Elizabeth only gets one thing out of that whole discussion. Lunging her whole body back toward the room, slimy little hands outstretched, she sniffle-mumbles, "Mama?"

"That's right. Can you say Doctor Mama?"

"Mama."

I enunciate. "Doc-tor Mama."

"Good luck, kid." Charlie lumbers out, leaning heavily on his walker. "She's smart, but she's not that smart."

"Hey," Sue says, resting her hand on his side to keep him stabilized. "Don't say that about my granddaughter." She leans in to rub her nose against Elizabeth's. "You were such a good baby, weren't you? You were a good baby for Mommy."

"Mama!"

Girl's seriously got a one-track mind.

"Doctor Mama," I remind her, but she's uncooperative.

The rest of my family joins us out in the hallway a minute later, and I sneak one last look through the doorway as Banner pulls it closed.

"So…" my mother says.

"So now we wait."

"Believe me. We remember."

The night of my defense, Bella told me my mom was pretty much climbing the walls the entire time I was being grilled, getting more and more worried that the committee would fail me with every passing second. I shake my head at her. "It'll be fine." _I hope_. "Her advisor said she was totally solid."

"I know, but all your plans… If anything goes wrong…"

Like I need the reminder.

I swallow hard and force a smile. "Seriously. It'll be fine. Come on." I gesture with my head toward the hallway. "Let's go get a cup of coffee or something."

Over her protests, I get Elizabeth settled in her stroller, eventually managing to bribe her with her Baby Kermit doll and a half-dozen Cheerios. As one big huddled mass of family, we make our way to the elevator and then downstairs to the cafeteria. On the ride down, I shove my hand in my pocket, feeling for the letter that's been burning a hole there since yesterday.

Mom wasn't kidding when she talked about our plans being tenuous. It isn't easy trying to place a two-Ph.D household. Openings for new professors are hard enough to come by; two in the same department at the same time?

Let's just say Higgs bosons are easier to find.

So when it came time to start looking for jobs, we stuck to big cities with multiple universities. After taking turns flying all over the country to do interviews and present guest lectures about our research, news slowly started to trickle in. Brilliant woman that she is, Bella managed to pick up three offers, one for a three-year post-doctoral researcher position and two for actual professorships. She begged them all for time to mull it over, and I started panicking. Finally, I got an offer for a two-year appointment at a school in the same city as her top choice.

It was something, but considering Charlie and Sue want to move with us, it was far from ideal. We want something stable. Someplace where we can pick out schools with awesome science programs for our daughter. Someplace where we can _stay_.

And then yesterday, I got a letter. Knowing exactly how overwhelmed Bella was, I held onto it, waiting to show it to her today, after she passes.

I think I know how she'll react. But my stomach still churns, unsure.

My mom insists on taking Elizabeth to go change her while we stand in line for drinks and snacks. Eventually, we all end up piling around a big table in the back, sipping coffees and watching my little girl as she tosses things on the floor and spits Cheerios.

Bella likes to say she's 'experimenting with gravity'. But until she manages to formulate Newton's Law of Universal Gravitation, I'm maintaining my position that she's really just trying to drive her parents mad before they're thirty.

_Her parents._

All at once, I feel everything fading away. It's one of those moments. One of those weird, strange, wonderful moments when I sit back and let it all wash over me.

I'm a dad.

I'm married.

I'm fucking _Doctor_ Cullen, for goodness's sake.

If someone tried to tell twenty-three year-old virgin me this? He would have laughed in their faces.

And he would have had absolutely no idea what he was missing.

But he knew he was missing _something_.

I'm not missing anything now.

As we wait, the grown-ups at the table (among whom I still patently refuse to count myself) make small-talk, discussing plans for Alice and Jasper's wedding, among other things. All the small-talk is colored with nervousness, though. We're all really just killing time, desperate to get the thumbs-up sign. As confident as I am, even I'll admit to being ready to go break into that room and beg them to just tell us already.

Finally, an hour and a half after they kicked us out, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I knock over Elizabeth's sippy cup in my hurry to get to it.

The second I get the screen unlocked and read the text, I'm out of my seat, hands up in the air.

"Yeah?" my dad asks.

"Hell, yeah!" My face hurts with how hard I'm grinning. "_Doctor_ Swan-Cullen is waiting for us upstairs." I lift Elizabeth out of her high-chair and spin her around. "You hear that, sweetie? Doctor Mommy's ready!"

She grins and drools, and in that instant, her big brown eyes look so much like her mother's.

Her amazing, amazing mother's.

My mom's voice breaks through my haze. "Come on. Give her here." She's got her arms out, waiting for me to deposit the wriggling pile of my daughter into them.

"Huh?"

"Give me the baby and go congratulate your wife." She nods her head toward the stairs. "We'll catch up in a minute."

Well, when she puts it that way…

I hand over the girl, then duck down to brush the coppery wisps of hair back from her face before kissing her nose. "See you soon." To my mom, I add a quick, "Thanks," and then I'm off.

I take the stairs two at a time, but it still seems to take forever to get to my other girl. When I finally do, I push the door open with enough force to rattle the room. Dr. Banner and Bella both look at me as one. Bella's grinning ear-to-ear, and even Banner looks amused.

"Ah. Dr. Cullen," he says in greeting.

"Dr. Banner."

"I'll leave you two. Congratulations again, Bella."

She nods and shakes his hand. "Thanks, Bob. I'll email you tomorrow about finishing up revisions."

"Take your time."

He pats my shoulder on his way out, and then it's just my Bella and me. I don't hesitate to close the distance, crossing the room to her and wrapping her up in my arms. "I am so proud of you, baby."

"That's Doctor Baby, to you."

I laugh and hug her tighter. Kiss her cheek. "I was trying to teach Elizabeth to say Doctor Mommy, but she's resisting."

"Imagine that." She pulls away and looks around. "Where is she anyway?"

"With the cavalry. They'll be up in a minute."

She steps toward the door. "Should we go meet them?"

"Actually." I grab her hand and tug her back to me. Waiting until I catch her eyes, I reach into my pocket. "There was something I wanted to talk to you about anyway. Alone."

"Oh?" Her forehead creases with surprise.

I lean in to kiss the tension away, pressing my lips to the crinkled space between her brows. And once I'm there, I can't help kissing her mouth as well. She's surprised but responsive, opening for me.

And four years may have passed. We may have married and had a baby.

But she's still my girl. My sweet, sexy, horny, devilish girl.

She whimpers and pulls back. "How long 'til they get here?"

"Not long enough," I say with a groan. _Focus._ "But that isn't what I wanted to talk about anyway."

Her one eyebrow rises, her hand drifting down toward my belt. "Oh, really?"

I stop her hand, only to press the letter into it. "Really."

She pauses, her eyes lighting with understanding. "This isn't…"

My heart in my throat, I grab her other hand. "It is."

She shakes the letter open and scans it with ever-widening eyes.

"Tenure track," she whispers.

"Yup." I study her face, still waiting for her reaction.

I don't have to wait long. After just another second of moving her gaze across the page, her eyes connect with mine, and in a brilliant burst, her whole face lights up. She throws herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck and squealing. "That's so perfect!"

It is. It's a full-time professorship. In the same city as her other offer.

We'll both be professors – both be able to pursue our careers and put down roots.

Still, I have to check. "I know it wasn't your number one choice but…"

"Screw that." She plants three loud kisses on my cheek. "My family's my first choice. Always."

"You're sure?"

She pulls back and puts both hands on the sides of my face. "So sure. So, so sure."

For a minute, all we can do is smile at each other and stare.

"We're really going to do this, aren't we?" she asks quietly, eyes shining.

"We are. We're going to do everything." Buy a house. Set up research teams. Teach annoying undergrads. Raise a frighteningly precocious daughter. "Together."

She squeals and hugs me again. "I can't wait."

Just then, there's a knock on the door, and our families pour in. The instant Bella sees the little face staring at her from my mother's arms, she ditches me like so much dead weight and runs to scoop up our girl. Holding her up in the air and making sweet little baby-talk noises at her, she's a vision.

A vision of my life.

And it strikes me all over again that I am the luckiest, happiest man alive.

Bella eventually calms down and gets Elizabeth perched on her hip. She accepts congratulations from everyone in turn. Once they've all had their say, my dad shoves the two of us together. "Come on. Let me get a picture of Doctor and Doctor and soon-to-be Doctor Cullen."

I roll my eyes at him. "There's one Doctor Swan-Cullen in there somewhere."

"Details, details."

At his insistence, Bella and I pose with Elizabeth held between us. Just before the flash, we all smile.

Even the little stinker.

And it's just one moment. Just one perfect snapshot out of the chaos of our lives.

But it's there. Captured in pixel form. And real. So real.

I have a feeling it's going to be a keeper.

.

.

.

* * *

><p>Thank you. It's been a joy.<p>

xoxo, -tlig


	54. BPOV Prequel :: Fandom For TwiFanG

So…I wrote this last summer for the Fandom For TwiFanG compilation, and I always said I was going to post it, but I had three follow-up outtakes I wanted to do, so I told myself, _nah, wait until they're all done_.

9 months later, those three other outtakes aren't done, but maybe posting this will give me a kick in the pants? And even if it doesn't, well, it seems silly to leave it sitting around collecting dust in my archive.

Anyway, you all have been so amazing and so supportive, especially of my original fiction work of late, that I wanted to give you something, and I had this, so… here it is?

**Context: **This is a Bella POV prequel to String Theory. It takes place about two years before String Theory begins, when they're in their first semester of grad school together.

**Disclaimer:** Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. Lyrics from I'm Going To Go Back There Someday, as performed by Gonzo the Great.

**Special Thanks:** Mad4Hugh was such an incredibly supportive reader and an amazing person. I miss her very much.

* * *

><p><em>Sun rises, night falls, sometimes the sky calls.<em>

_Is that a song there, and do I belong there?_

* * *

><p><strong>November 2009<strong>

"Your problem set for next week is on the board." Banner points at it and smiles. "Have a good weekend, guys."

I grunt something that isn't quite a laugh out under my breath. As if.

There are only seven problems in the assignment, at least. Maybe I'll be able to knock a few of them out while I'm waiting at the doctor's office – Lord knows when else I'm going to have time to. With the questions copied down in my planner, I throw everything together and toss it all in my bag, already rising from my seat and making for the door. My phone buzzed about halfway through the lecture, and that's never good. Dad knows enough not to bug me during class unless it's something important, so it's probably the therapist's office. Or worse, Jake.

I really have to do something about that situation, soon.

Halfway up the aisle, I stumble, and my bag goes flying.

"Shit, shit, shit." I mutter the swear words under my breath, scrambling for my things. At least no one laughs.

One thing I can say for grad school, there aren't too many assholes left. In the couple months I've been here, everyone has been nice enough, considering I never have time to actually talk to any of them. Hell, a few have been entirely too nice.

It makes something wistful twist inside my chest.

"You okay?"

I hazard a quick glance up as I shove the contents of my bag back in. _Double shit._ It's the cute boy, of course. Edward. I mumble something about being fine as I stand back up and toss my bag over my shoulder, pushing my hair out of my face.

He frowns. "You sure?"

"Yeah, yeah." I manage to shoot him a quick smile.

His answering one is too sweet for words. Someone jostles him from behind, and his cheeks get red. He palms the back of his neck and opens his mouth again, looking at me like I'm not the clumsy girl who never talks to anyone. Like I'm something more. Before he can get a word out, though, my cellphone buzzes again.

"Crap." I dig around until I find it. It's the therapist's office after all. I'm not sure whether or not to be relieved. Holding up the screen, I manage, "Sorry, I have to…"

As I trail off, his whole face falls. "Sure."

I don't have time to think about it. With an apologetic glance at Edward, I start back up the aisle toward the exit, answering the phone at the same time. Fortunately, there's nothing major wrong. It's just the receptionist, calling to reschedule one of his appointments for next week. Great. Now I'll have to talk to our home-care nurse and try to rearrange her visit, too.

"Hold on one sec." I pull off to the side of the hallway, juggling my phone and my bag and feeling around for my planner, but my hand comes up empty.

"Um…"

I look up in shock to find Edward standing in front of me again. As if that wasn't a nice enough sight, he's holding my planner in his hand.

He adjusts his glasses and fidgets, looking so uncomfortable I kind of want to hug him just to set him at ease. And for other reasons. Obviously.

"You dropped this," he says.

"You are a _godsend_." I snatch it out of his hands and open it to next week, shifting the phone to hold it squeezed between my shoulder and my ear. Speaking to the receptionist again, I say, "Yes, yes, I'm still here."

With just a little bit of negotiating, we manage to arrive at a time that'll work for everyone. After hanging up, I turn back to Edward with every intention of thanking him properly, even though I'm now running very, very late.

Only problem is, he's not there.

And it should be a relief. I don't have time to talk to anyone right now. I never do.

But it's not a relief. Not even a little. Not even at all.

#

Edward drifts into my thoughts from time to time that weekend. Never consciously or anything – just in passing when I'm distracted or bored. Doing dishes or sitting at the doctor's office, pointedly not making any progress on my problem set.

On Monday, I have every intention of going up to him and thanking him for his kindness, but when I get to class… I don't know.

It's weird – I've never exactly been shy. But the way I started things off here… My dad had his stroke a week before I started grad school and it threw everything off. Instead of going to pizza night with the other first years or happy hour at the bar on Tuesday nights, I rushed from orientation to the hospital, from a meeting with my advisor to a consultation with a rehabilitation specialist. I spent hours on the phone with Dad's insurance company. I kept my head down, not because I wanted to be aloof. Because I was overwhelmed. Close to breaking. I still am, sometimes.

And I don't know how to get past that now.

As I walk into the room, Edward's already sitting with a bunch of other people, laughing and talking. I should just buck up and go over to them, but my feet take me to my usual seat in the back. I curse myself under my breath and tell myself to just woman up already, but it's no use. By the time I get my courage up, Banner's striding into the room, and my chance is lost.

After class, Edward's officemate—Jasper, I think—is giving him shit about something. I'm packing up my bag and watching on in amusement as Jasper goes so far as to reach over and pull up Edward's shirt, revealing the top of—

Are those Green Lantern underwear?

I stifle my giggle with a cough, but Edward's eyes flash over to me all the same. He shoves Jasper away and pushes his shirt back down, but not before I catch a glimpse of bronze-colored hair and toned, pale skin. I dart my gaze up to see Edward looking down, his cheeks scarlet, and he looks…not just mortified but _mad_.

He storms out of the room, and I feel awful. I wasn't laughing _at_ him, but he might have thought…

The next few days, I keep looking for a chance to say something, but the longer I wait, the more ridiculous it seems. And what would I say, anyway? _Thanks for helping me with my planner last week. And by the way, I thought your boxers were cute._

His face would probably catch fire, the implausibility of spontaneous combustion aside.

He never looks my way, regardless. If anything, his eyes seem to be downcast, like he's avoiding me.

After a week goes by, I pretty much give up. I'm busy with other things – we're trying out a new speech therapist for my dad, and his regular nurse has had to switch around her hours. And final exams are coming up. There are more than enough responsibilities to bury myself behind.

My chance passes me by, and I watch it go.

It seems like just one of so many. But for some reason, this missed opportunity bothers me more than most.

#

"Jesus, Bells. I'm not even sure why it's worth trying with you anymore!"

Jake's voice rings out over the line, through the silence and the static. I squeeze my eyes shut and swallow hard, make a fist and hold it tight. Everything is clamping down.

Because I don't know either. I don't know why we keep having these fights I don't have the energy for or why I feel this way. I don't have a lot of experience with love, but it's not supposed to be this way. It isn't.

The person you're with isn't supposed to make you feel more alone.

I'm barely even cognizant as he clears his throat and starts to speak again. "Bella? Aren't you gonna say something?"

With effort, I force my body to relax. I used to love him – once upon a time in what feels like a different life, I did. But that's not my life anymore. I'm not the girl who floated from the classroom to the lab to my friends' place to the bar. The one who had sex on Sunday mornings. Who knitted and read and watched TV.

I'm the woman who does my research and my coursework. The one who comes home and has to cook and clean and take my father through his exercises. The one who's juggling so hard to keep all these balls from falling down around me.

I'm not the girl who fell in love with Jake. And more and more, he sounds like a stranger to me.

"I'm not sure either." It's like I hear myself saying it. Like I'm not really there behind the words.

For the first time, Jake's the one who sounds unsure. "What?"

"I'm not sure why we're bothering either."

"Hold on a second, Bells…"

But I can't. The words are out there, and with every one of them, a little piece of the weight on my shoulders seems to ease. "You're not going to move here. I'm not going to quit school and move there. You're not happy. I'm not happy. And I'm dealing with so much here…"

"I know you are, baby—"

I can't believe he has the gall to call me 'baby' right now.

Before I can stop myself, I'm lashing out. "Then why aren't you supporting me?! All you do is ask for more, and I don't have any more to give."

It's supposed to be _different_, isn't it?

For a moment, I let myself indulge the fantasy. What would it be like to have a boyfriend who _did_ understand? One who helped and who got me? One who gave me room when I needed it and pitched in and who made it … someone who made it _easier_? Someone I could lean on. Talk to.

Love.

Jake swallows audibly. When he speaks again, his voice is far away. "Is there someone else?"

It's ridiculous – like he's reading my mind but getting it completely, completely wrong.

He always gets everything wrong.

I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand and stare up at the ceiling, unsure when I started crying. It's going to stop now. My sigh only shakes a little. "No, Jake. There's no one else."

But even as I'm saying that, a face floats across my vision. A sweet face, framed by floppy, auburn hair. Glasses and a blush and pretty green eyes. I could laugh if I wasn't trying so hard not to cry.

No one should have to deal with my mess right now. Especially not someone as nice and shy as Edward. If there's anything this conversation with Jake is proving to me, it's that. I may long for companionship, but that doesn't mean I can have it.

And it's not like I have any real reason to think he'd want something like that with me, anyway.

It takes me a second to realize Jake's still talking. "…Because if there is someone—"

This time, I do laugh. "That you would even suggest that, Jake… It just proves how little you understand about how things are for me right now. I go to school full time, and I take care of my dad who _almost died_. Who is _permanently disabled_." I sound my words out like I'm talking to a five year-old. Sometimes it feels like I am. "God, if you would just listen to me for one second you would know that."

"I listen."

"No, no, you don't." I huff out a breath. It takes effort, but I soften my voice. "Jake, you know how much I care about you."

Jake's chuckle is raw and resigned. But it doesn't really sound all that sad. I think he knew this was coming, too. When this is over, I just hope he feels as relieved as I do.

"But I think…," I start.

"Yeah. I think, too."

And that's really all there is to say.

"Don't be a stranger, you know?" I ask.

"Sure, sure. Give Charlie my best, okay?"

"I will."

After a couple more minutes of awkwardness, we say goodbye, and I think we both know it's probably for good. I hit the button to end the call, then toss my phone to the side and dig the heels of my hands into my eyes. It's a relief. It is.

But I still feel so, so alone.

I give myself a few minutes to wallow, but before long, I drag myself up. I check myself out in the mirror and dab a little more at my eyes. They're kind of red around the edges, but I don't look too bad. It's not like my dad could have missed the more heated parts of our conversation anyway.

When I emerge out into the main part of the house, I find him sitting on the couch in the living room with the television on. He turns the volume right down as soon as I enter the room, and from the expression on his face… Yeah. He heard everything he needed to.

"You okay?"

The slur to his words has gotten better in the past month, but it's still there. That's okay. I've gotten pretty good at understanding him around it.

I sniff and nod, forcing a smile. "Fine."

He narrows one eye. "That boy still giving you trouble?"

"No." I debate how much to tell him, but then figure…whatever. If I don't tell him, he's just going to keep asking when Jake doesn't call. "And he won't be. Not anymore."

The right side of his mouth drops into a frown. "You kids broke up?"

"Yeah." I turn to go into the kitchen, hoping we can breeze right over this. I'm about to ask if he wants anything when he stops me.

"Bella."

"Yeah?"

"C'mere. Please."

Shit. Shit shit shit. I'm never going to be able to keep from crying if my dad tries to hug me.

I keep my eyes cast down as I cross the room and sit beside him. His arm is held out, and I hesitate for a moment.

"Come on," he insists. "Indulge me."

I give up and give in, leaning my head on his shoulder and letting him put his arm around me.

I'm really not all that upset, but no matter how old I am, no matter how much our roles have switched since his stroke…there's just something about my dad being all _fatherly _that makes me feel like a little girl. And like he's going to make all my problems go away.

I shudder with the force of my sob, the block in my throat giving way, and he holds me tighter, rubbing up and down my arm.

"There, there," he says quietly. He rests his chin on the top of my head. "Let it out."

I shake my head. "I didn't even like him all that much anymore."

"Doesn't matter. You're still allowed to be sad."

And in that moment, I wonder just how much he knows. If I had this all to do over again, all the tough choices about giving up my apartment and moving in with him, about giving up _so much_ for him, I'd do it all in a heartbeat. But it's lonely. It's scary and lonely, and sometimes…

Sometimes I'm all too aware that my dad is all I have.

I cry it out for a couple minutes, but I dry up pretty fast. When I pull away, he lets me go. I shift back across the couch to grab a tissue from the box on the side table and mop my face up as best I can.

"You sure you're okay with this? You don't want to…you know…talk or anything?"

"Nah, I'm good."

He hesitates, as if sizing me up. When I meet his eyes, the concern in them breaks, and he gives me a lop-sided smile. "If it helps, I never thought that guy was good enough for you, anyway."

My laugh is choked. "You'd never think anyone was good enough."

"Probably not." There's something rough to his throat as he continues. "But someday you're gonna find someone who makes you feel like the most special person in the world. And when you do…that'll be good enough for me."

My lip wobbles as I smile at him. My dad has always been a little rough around the edges, but every now and then he has to go and say something like that. And everything I've been through in the past few months feels like it's been worthwhile.

As if he knows how hard my heart is squeezing, he grabs for the remote again and looks away. In a voice that's a shade too raspy, he says, forced-casually, "Thought I saw _Muppets Take Manhattan_ on one of the cable channels when I was flipping through. What do you say?"

I don't have time. But…

"Sure, Dad. Sounds great." I reach over, and for just a second clasp his hand. "I'll go make some popcorn."

"Extra butter on mine."

I roll my eyes. Salt-free and fat-free is more like it. "Right."

I'm half-way to the kitchen before he stops me. "Hey? And Bells?"

"Yeah?"

He's pointedly staring at the screen and not at me. "When you do find the right guy… If he doesn't make you feel like that?"

"Yeah?" My stomach does a little flip.

"I will not hesitate to shoot him in the face."

#

After Jake and I break up, I find myself drifting along a little more aimlessly. There's my research and my classes and my dad. But everything else…

And there's a bitterness in the back of my throat.

Thoughts of Edward come to me more often, and they're some of the few untinged by that faint hint of anger. I wouldn't say I pine for him. There's no love-sick puppy behavior, no illusions of love at all. More like just a passing fascination.

He's my 'might have been'. If only everything had been different.

I watch him a little more carefully in my classes and in the halls between our offices. It's not like I was unaware of him before, but my eyes are now open in a way they hadn't been. I stand by my original assessment: he's _cute_. Not gorgeous – at least not classically so. But there's something I like about his face, something soft to his mouth and yet hard in the angle of his jaw. His eyes are pretty, and his body… Well, his body is pretty hard to get a read on, honestly. He's lanky, but he seems to have a thing for oversized T-shirts with goofy sayings. They're long enough that you can rarely see his ass, even through his jeans. Not that it would matter. His jeans don't quite fit right on him either.

But still. Cute.

In the summers, he wears shorts, and he has nice-looking (if pale) legs. Covered in rust-colored hair, they're lean and muscled like a runner's, but nothing about the musculature looks fake. He isn't a gym rat to say the least.

And sometimes, when he sits with his chin in his hand…

He has these long, slender fingers. And I feel really, really weird to be perving on his hand.

The whole acting-like-he's-avoiding-even-looking-at-me thing only lasts a couple weeks, and then… Is it weird to say he becomes more casual in his non-interaction with me? He doesn't seem to be consciously trying not to glance at me.

And after a while, I think, sometimes he might be _intentionally_ looking at me.

It's hard to tell, though. Every time I think I catch him looking, he darts his gaze away, cheeks flushing. But it doesn't feel uncomfortable. Really, it feels like the least interactive kind of flirting I think I've ever seen. And it sets my imagination reeling.

It has me dressing up or even wearing heels. Not often because I don't like people looking at me, but sometimes it's just nice to feel pretty. Like I'm something more than just a student or a nurse.

He eventually starts taking his coffee breaks around the same time I do. And he's always walking past my cubicle, and I think, _Maybe_. Maybe.

He doesn't talk to me, though. I don't talk to him either, and I know it's for the best. The conclusions I came to after Jake have still held true: romance isn't meant for me. I can't have it. Don't even necessarily want it. Definitely don't have time for it.

But every now and then, as I step around him to get to the coffee machine, I think he's going to. He's going to speak to me.

I steel myself, wanting and not wanting, hoping and _not hoping_.

But if he did…

I think maybe it wouldn't be a bad thing.

#

The problem is, he doesn't.

Not for two long years.

#

But when he does, I'm ready.

.

.

.

.

.

* * *

><p>This may be incredibly gauche, but if you didn't know, my original fiction is under the pen name Jeanette Grey, and I had a new book come out yesterday. It's a short college romance and it's full of, well, let's be honest here, smut. No pressure. Just thought you might like to know.<p>

www dot jeanettegrey dot com slash bookshelf

Thanks, as always, for reading, and for your incredible support.


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